#they were apples of the orange tree

[crvstybowlofcereal]

close again, fruit was named before the color, and the tree was named before the fruit!

[sunsetzer]

I had an orange tree growing for three years outside that started producing iridium quality oranges just this summer and now it's dead :') idk if it was hit by lightning or something but it looks charred and it's smoking

[msgexymunson]

Soft Touches

Description: you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

Warnings: acquaintances to lovers, reader is AFAB, weed smoking (both parties so no real dub con), fem oral receiving, praise kink, p in v unprotected sex.

A/N: It's my birthday! And I'm high, and horny, so happy birthday! If you've read my work you KNOW I'm a sucker for the first time y/n fucks Eddie. When I'm a benevolent dictator it shall be a universal holiday ;)

4k words

Masterlist

“Eddie, what the hell was in that?” 

Floating in a cloud of your high, the entire room seemed to glow in pink and orange, senses tinged in a sunset glow. You were definitely stoned out of your tree if you were comparing Eddie's stuffy, cramped room to a breath-taking sunset. 

“It's a new strain I got from Rick. You feeling it?” 

“Oh, I'm feeling it alright. I can hear colours.” 

Eddie's rich laugh echoed off the walls of his trailer. He laid on the bed casually, one arm slung beneath his head making his tight t-shirt ride up slightly. Just a peek of his happy trail was on display, which you tried, and failed, not to stare at. 

It was proving difficult, especially since you sat criss-cross apple sauce on his floor. His body was eye level, handcuff belt shining softly in the low light. The glint of that drew your eyes even lower, concentrating on the bulge you could see in his jeans.

You thought you were being sneaky. You absolutely were not. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you gonna answer me or just stare at my dick?” 

“Huh?” 

Shaking your head as if to clear it, you finally met his gaze. 

“I said, you can come lay up here if you want.” 

Halfway between getting up and still in a weird little crouch his words finally filtered through your addled brain. 

“I wasn't staring at your dick!” 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

Frozen, mind empty of comebacks, you clambered out of your goblin stance and stood up, when the blood decided to rush to your head. 

“Oh Holy shit.” 

Your knees buckled, and you would have ended up face first on Eddie's carpet if he hadn't caught you. 

“Easy there, I've got you.” 

Eddie's firm hands held your upper arms tightly as he manoeuvred you to sit on his bed. The room was spinning, everything was drifting out of focus. 

“I need to lie down.” 

Eddie pulled you towards his pillows and laid you down gently, picking your legs up and settling them on the bed with you. Staring up at his off white ceiling, things began to drift back in. Once the room finally stopped swooping around in your vision, you started to come to your senses. 

You are on Eddie Munson's bed. You knew him, sure, only in a ‘can I come round so you can smoke us out and listen to music’ kind of way. You'd hardly call him a friend. This though, feeling the heat of his body next to you, him leaning on his side staring at you worriedly seemed entirely outside of your current arrangement. 

Suddenly the air was stifling, Eddie's warmth only exacerbating the matter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, just really warm. And fucking high.” 

Eddie laughed, relieved.

“Thank fuck, I was scared for a minute.” 

You fumbled at the hem of your oversized sweater, attempting to wriggle it up your body but all motor skills were beyond you right now. 

“Eddie.” You pouted at him, flapping the edge of your sweater with frustrated hands. 

“You want this off?” 

“Please.” 

He flashed you a mischievous grin and pulled up upright, beginning to draw the offensive sweater up and over your form. 

“Didn't think you'd be begging me to undress you sweetheart.” 

Rolling your eyes in response, you held your arms over your head like a petulant toddler. Sweater removed and tossed to the foot of the bed, you risked a glance at Eddie. He was entirely preoccupied, staring at your bare midriff that was now on display. 

“It's a crop top Eddie, get over it.” 

Flinging yourself back down on the pillow, Eddie coughed, looking a little flustered, and settled in next to you. 

“Sorry, I didn't expect it. You always wear baggy shit.” 

“Comfortable shit, thank you. I come here to smoke, it's not New York fashion week.”

Eddie ran a finger across you, just below your belly button. The barely there touch blazed across your skin. 

“I didn't know you had your belly button pierced.” 

Looking down, you watch as his fingers circle it, then flick the little jewel dangling off the end. Thighs clamping together out of sheer necessity, you attempt to ignore it. 

“Yeah, got it done when I was like 15, two towns over. Probably my least painful piercing. Apart from ears, of course.”

Apparently, Rick's new strain also makes you run your mouth, as well as being insanely warm and horny. It seemed you had captured Eddie's attention. He turned further towards you, one hand holding his head up. The other, much to your relief, stayed on your stomach. You're not sure he was even aware he was still stroking your skin. 

“Least painful? What other piercings do you have?” 

You seriously considered dodging the question, but it's difficult to be devious directly to those big wet eyes of his. It's like trying to lie to a baby cow. 

“Well, I got my nose done, but the piercing fell out and I didn't bother to get a new one. That one stung. But the worst had to be my… my nipples.” 

The whole bed lurched as Eddie jumped up and sat cross legged facing you. He practically flew into action, grabbing his cigarettes and a lighter as if you were about to tell him some epic tale. 

“Right, tell me everything.” 

Whilst laughing at his wide eyed expression, you realise he's being completely serious. 

“Well, they er, they like, sanitise the… area, draw a dot where they're going to pierce you and tell you to take a deep breath in and it's done. It's super quick actually. It's more the after part that hurts. Why are you interested?” 

Eddie pushes his hair behind one ear, the tip of it is glowing scarlet, you notice. 

“I was thinking about getting it done my last birthday but I didn't have the cash.” 

He's staring at you, nervously chewing on a hang nail. You can practically see the unasked question dancing on his tongue. You weren't going to offer, hell no. If he wants to see he has to ask. The thing is, the way your tummy is bubbling right now, you don't think you could say no to those eyes of his. 

The question remains unsaid. He merely offers you a drag on his cigarette which you take gratefully, before he's stubbing it out and laying back down next to you. 

“How you feeling now? Bit less baked?” 

“Oh I'm still fucked, but I can see straight and I don't feel sick.” 

His fingers begin their dance again, skating over your exposed flesh, stroking down your side to your hip, across your stomach, and back again. You want to mention it. He's never touched you like this before, but you also don't want him to stop. 

“Good. Not inviting you over again if you hurl on my bed.” 

Giggling, you turn and face him. You're both on your sides now, knees close to knocking. His shirts ridden up again and before you can even register what you're doing you've placed a delicate hand on his hip. His eyes widened briefly, but that's it. Both of you are touching the others bare flesh, whispers of touches. Little, tentative things, like the bursting of soap bubbles on skin. 

“I wouldn't hurl on your bed. I'm sure I'd at least make it to the bathroom. I'm not an animal.” 

Eddie just grins in response, and you look at each other, really look. His dopey smile is the same as yours, and it seems neither of you want to mention how this seems to be rolling into very unfamiliar territory. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why are you touching me?” 

He pushes infinitesimally closer, his knee now slotting between yours. It's a small gesture, but suddenly the situation feels even more intimate than before. 

“Because. Because it feels good. You're soft, and warm. And you keep making little noises.” 

“I do?” 

He smooths his hand higher, thumb dragging along the underside of your breast, and you let out a tiny, quivering whimper.

“See? Like that.” 

Opening your legs slightly wider, Eddie's knee pushes naturally further forward, his thigh now wedged between yours. His breath is fanning your nose; cigarettes, weed, and sweet snacks. 

“So sweetheart, why are you touching me?” 

Your hand presses a little more firmly, snaking underneath the hem of his shirt. With no complaint forthcoming, you reach further up, stroking his side, up over his ribs, and back down again. He responds in kind. Every kiss of fingers is electrifying, filling the room with a soft, dense tension. 

“Because it feels good. Because I saw a bit of skin and I couldn't resist.” 

“Yeah?” He's smirking as he says it, but you're beyond playing games at this point. 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn't know I was irresistible.”

You pinch his skin a little and he stares at you like you just betrayed him. 

“I didn't say that, you're twisting my words.” 

“Pretty sure I heard-” 

Cutting him off with a tickle to the ribs, he grabs your hand to stop you. 

“OK, OK! You were right, I was wrong. Nice touches again please.” 

His hand swiftly makes its way back to your skin and you continue to stroke him. 

“Nice touches?” 

“Yeah, it feels really good.” 

Running your hand up, you graze his nipple, and then bring it back down, down, until you reach the top of his jeans. You graze a finger, just one, under them, sweeping across his tensing abs. Then, you move up to more innocent flesh. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Eddie's chest is heaving, fingers pressing indents into your flesh. 

“Nice enough?” you're the one smirking this time, pleased at the effect you're having on him. 

“Yeah.” 

It's barely a word, more of a breath. You scoot closer toward him, just a couple of inches, but it's close enough to feel his thigh start to press against your heat. Gasping at the pressure, you rub subtly against his thigh to try and relieve your mounting feelings, no matter how slightly. 

Eddie's hand starts making a trembling journey up your form, fingers twisting underneath your top. Feeling the underside of your bare breast, you both gasp. Eddie undoubtedly because you weren't wearing a bra, you because, well, the obvious. The slightest graze had your nipple hardening instantly, hips rocking forward without your control. 

“Is this OK?” 

“Yeah. Please.” 

Fingers stretching further, Eddie finally brushes your nipple. The feeling is magnified by your piercing; they've felt more sensitive since you got them done.

The moan that escapes is louder than you meant but it couldn't be helped. This simple touch is igniting through your nerves and rushing to your high brain. 

“Shit, they are pierced.” 

It seems to be a thought that Eddie said out loud by accident as he rubs his fingers over your ruddy nipple, slowly circling the silver balls of the jewellery. 

Another moan breaks from you, even louder this time.

“Fuuuuck Eddie.” 

“Yeah?” 

His touches become firmer, rubbing your nipple between thumb and forefinger, mapping the way your face scrunches up with his eyes.

“Yeah, jeez. They're really sensitive.” 

Practically panting in each other's mouths, your noses rub together. 

“Can- can I kiss you?” 

His words are so hesitant that it makes you giggle. Pressing your lips in a swift kiss to his full bottom lip, you respond. 

“I'd be mad if you didn't.” 

Eddie wastes no more time, pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to you that you reciprocate in kind. You keep it slow, leisurely traversing new territory with soft, exploring tongues. Naturally your arms encircle him, pulling him closer, closer. His arm snakes around your back as your bodies press together, like puzzle pieces slotting together and finding their perfect match. Eventually you break away to take a gasping breath as Eddie presses kisses to your collarbone.

“I don't know why we waited so long to do that.” 

“We? I thought you just wanted me for free drugs!” 

You giggled loudly at that, so loud it came out as a snort, but it didn't matter. The moment was so honest that being cool had nothing to do with it. You were bare, in a way, and so was he. 

Eddie chuckled with you as he slowly but surely pushed you onto your back, slipping both of his legs between yours. Pushing your hips up, you feel his hardness graze your pubic bone. 

“Eddie?” 

He hums a response, lips and tongue busy loving on your neck. You tug at the hem of your top and pull upwards. Eddie gets the message, moving out of the way briefly so you can strip it off. 

There you are, bare chested in front of him. You'd be nervous, if you hadn't seen the longing in his eyes. He's kneeling, one arm leaning on the mattress whilst the other compulsively strokes your side. 

“Jesus Christ your tits are perfect.” 

The moment stretches just a little too long for comfort; you're a hair's breadth away from crossing your arms over your chest when Eddie leans down and runs his tongue around and around one nipple. Mewling pathetically, you lace your fingers in Eddie's soft waves and tug. In response his teeth graze you as he sucks softly; then he gives the other just as much attention. 

Shuddering and wriggling under him, you can't do anything but whine, your hips undulating upwards to chase some friction, some release, anything. 

“Eddie, please, I need you.” 

“Umph,” He responds, muffled by your chest, “I need you to say that again.” 

“Eddie I swear to God if you don't- ” 

He laughs, cutting off your sentence. 

“Alright baby girl, I got you.” 

Working his way down your front, he takes his time planting soft kisses, making you writhe at each touch of his lips, until he reaches your shorts. 

Flicking the button open, he slowly drags the zip down and finds the little sliver of red panties poking out. 

“Hearts? Cute.” 

Thick fingers plunge into your clothes and pull them away, flinging your shorts and panties across the room into the void that was Eddie's carpet. 

Insecurity finally gripped its claws into you. What if he didn't like what you looked like down there, smelled like, tasted like? 

A moment of unadulterated panic, and then Eddie licked his tongue, slowly yet firmly, between your lips and all the way up. Barging your thighs further apart with his shoulders, he rooted your clit out with his tongue, running dizzying circles and sucking at it desperately. 

Eddie's moans rivalled your own, such neediness etched in you swear his fingerprints will be left on the outside of your thighs like tattoos, simply from the force he held you with. Barely able to shake, you compensated by pulling his hair and guiding his tongue exactly where you needed it. 

He pushed a thick calloused finger into you slowly, looking up at you as he did so. You back arched off the bed. He felt around, staring at you with such intensity you that you were seconds away from telling him to quit staring when-

“Oh God, oh fuck!” 

Eddie smirked, sliding another finger in gently to join the first, and worked your clit between his lips. He incessantly stroked a spot inside that you'd never reach on your own, a firm, beckoning gesture as if he were willing your orgasm to come hither. 

It was working. Your insides tingle, a tightness pulling straight from your gut and shooting out to your fingers and toes. Beyond control by this point, your hand pulls his hair tightly. To your amazement, his other hand reaches out to you, seeking, and you lace your fingers in his own. 

As soon as your digits touched, you were gone. Your release plummets out of you, shaking through every bone you have, leaving you a twitching puddle of a woman. His fingers chase after it, dragging every inch of squelching pleasure out of your insides until you're tugging him away and begging for it to stop. 

As he moved back up your body, licking and sucking as he did so, you tried to think of an answer to the smug grin he was just about to flash at you. 

There was none. Brain unravelled, threads wound into your nerves instead of your thoughts, you laid there, ruminating on how he'd made you come faster than any other man.

Eddie hovered over you, nose nudging your own. He must have wiped his mouth at some point whilst you were in la la land. 

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Eddie, you're really fuckin’ good at that.”

“I know.”

You laugh, tapping his side.

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

Before you can retort his mouth is back on you, peppering kisses to your jaw, as his solid member presses into your naked heat.

“Fuck Eddie, please, please please-”

“Please what baby girl?” He asks, then sucks a hickey on your neck. 

Pulling him towards you by his shirt collar, you bite down sharply on his earlobe, pulling a little groan from his chest.

“I want you to stuff me full Eddie. I'm- I'm on birth control. Fill me up.” 

You can practically feel Eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck, you can't just say that, I nearly busted in my pants!” 

Pulling himself off you for the shortest time he could, he peels his t-shirt over his head and flops back on top of you. Desperate kisses and urgent gropes spill from you both; grinding, needy things that tore at clothes and grasped at flesh. 

After fiddling and failing with his belt, you huff and tug harshly at his waistband. He chuckles, biting at your bottom lip as he unlatches it with ease and then wriggles his pants and boxers down his legs with urgency. 

More desperate grasps, teeth and tongues clashing violently, your hand reaching down to clutch at his- 

“Holy hell!” 

His eyes widen, hands coming to a halt, waiting for the rest of your sentence. You're too busy trying to glance down his front as he hovers over you, your fist firmly stroking his hardened cock.

“You're huge Eddie!” 

He smirks and thrusts into your hand, the velvet smoothness of his dick massaged  by your palm. 

“Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Er, no, Rick's made some truth serum or some shit because that's the biggest I've ever felt.” 

You guide him firmly towards your entrance, dragging the tip of his enlarged cock through your slickened folds. He quivers over you, arms thick with tension. 

“Baby girl just, just slip it inside, please-” 

“Now who's begging?” 

Grinning mischievously, you wait for him to start forming an answer with his mouth when you slip the head inside your sopping opening. His open mouth turns into a long drawn out moan. 

You would tease him if the feeling of him splitting you open wasn't all consuming. Which it fucking is. He just keeps pushing, and pushing, until his chest is flush with yours and he's mumbling platitudes in your ear. 

“Doing so good for me. Such a naughty, naughty girl. Getting filled up by her drug dealer? Baby girls a little dirty, isn't she?”

You're trying not to let him know how much his words affect you, but the fluttering of your satin like walls tells a different story. 

“You're not my dealer.” 

“Oh really? I'm not?” 

Pulling out nearly all the way and pushing back in, you bite your lip at the drag against your insides.

“Dealer implies I buy shit. You just give it to me, like a little simp.”

Eddie's mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“You want me to give it to you now? I'll fucking give it to you baby.” 

Hooking an arm under your thigh, Eddie thrusts into you hard and devastatingly deep. And again, and again, until you start moaning wantonly right in his face, all bravado forgotten.

“Yeah? Atta girl. That good baby? Wanna feel me right here?” 

His other hand pushes against your lower stomach, the pressure deepening the pleasure he's giving you tenfold. 

“Oh Eddie, oh fuckfuckfuck!!” 

Your release explodes out of your cunt with a gush, liquid spurting out of you so hard you nearly force his impressive length out. It waves drastically, like the sea against the shore, washing and washing over you until it's hard to breathe. 

“Baby, baby! Holy shit, I think you squirted.” 

“Ya think? My God, that was… mind blowing.” 

“Yeah?” 

Looking up at him, you expect that arrogant grin, but he just looks pleased and innocent. Like a kid at Christmas. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Rolling him over with all the power left in your thighs, you pin him down and move firmly into him, ferality taking over your actions. 

“Jesus Christ, you are a dirty girl, aren't you?” 

“Maybe just a little.” 

Smirking, you hump against him, your swollen clit bumping against his pubic bone on each delicious pass. 

“Holy shit, I'm not complaining- fuck, what the- what are you doing? Jesus Christ!” 

You bounce hard on him. Seeing him writhe under you is a special kind of power, one you aren't willing to let go of. Ever.

“Fuck, b-baby girl, you're gonna make me come!” 

His intense moans spur you on further. Unable to bounce so much on shaky knees you snuggle down close to him, arms clutching his shoulders, as you grind into him. It's massaging sensations into your clit, as well as teasing your g spot with his imposing length. 

“I can't, I’m-  baby girl-” 

“I'm gonna come, Eddie please, fill me up, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your cum inside me, please, fuckin’ breed me Eddie. Oh fuck!” 

Quivering against him uncontrollably, your legs give out, collapsing on his body as he tenses and releases inside of you. It spurs your own orgasm, snaking up your spine and gripping on your system like a fly caught in honey. An open mouthed scream is all you give him, silent but chock full of feeling, as your back arches in its own tension. 

As it curls out of you, your back gives up, and you flop forward, bones turned to pudding. 

“Well.” is all that comes out, a puff of a word, just air escaping from a collapsing chest.

“Well.” Eddie responds, waiting for what you're about to say. 

You're sure he doesn't expect it. A laugh bubbles out; a weird, inside laugh, that you probably should never share with anyone. But it keeps coming. And coming. Laughing uncontrollably, you roll off of him and try to get your stomach muscles in check. 

You'd be worried about his reaction, if he wasn't laughing with you. It was this odd mixture of tension and relief that was bursting in the air, a barrier broken and left crumbling at your feet. 

“Eddie. Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

‘Yeah.”

His heated hand found yours, and squeezed your fingers hard. For some reason, it felt more intimate than all of this combined. 

Giggling again, you lean into his chest, fingers dipping up to weave into his hair. 

“Baby girl, you can't just-” 

“What? Pull your hair? Because you like it?” 

Tugging on his hair dramatically, Eddie tosses his head back and groans. 

“Knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, certified genius. It's like you don't wanna be railed again.” 

Huffing, you pull yourself on top of him again, hardened nipples brushing softly against his flesh. 

“Oh, I think I'll be the one railing you. You wanna make a bet, for next time?” 

Smug grin forgotten, Eddie stares at you in disbelief.

“Next time?” 

“Well, I hope so. Got to be the best I've ever had.” 

Stupid Rick and his stupid strain. 

“Best you've ever had?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Only if you wanna.” 

The teasing stopped. At least for now. It was pretty clear, your need for each other was outranking any goading you'd been sharing. 

At least for now… 

Taglist (Some permanents, some likely candidates, if you want to be added, jus say the word sweetheart)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson

[nerdypagan1]

that's... that's it? are you sure? there must be more. surely.

wikipedia is a gem

[fleurbly]

FOREVER, EVER.

summary: heartbroken and lost after remmick’s sudden disappearance, you're left to mourn the quiet life you shared. but when he returns days later in the dead of night, something about him is wrong — colder, darker, not quite the man you remember.

warnings: non-con, dub-con, coercion, power imbalance (?), mentions of blood, angst

DNI IF THIS UPSETS YOU

pairing: dark!remmick x reader

words: 10k+

based off this req

You stopped waiting at the gate on the fifth night.

The first four, you'd sat on the old stone fence just past the apple tree, chin resting in your hand, eyes trained on the path that cut through the hills. Hoping. Always hoping.

The lantern you kept lit burned down to its wick every time, and the neighbor's dog barked at nothing well past midnight. You’d go to bed with your dress still wrinkled from the wait, your hair loose and tangled, smelling like smoke and sweat, throat tight from swallowing every fear you’d never dared to name.

But by the fifth night, something in you stilled. Not in the peaceful way — not in the trusting way either. Just… dulled. Like your bones were too tired to hope properly.

Remmick had been gone nearly two weeks.

He’d only gone to help a traveler — a stranger passing through, said he’d lost his horse down by the bog. You hadn’t seen the man’s face clearly, just his boots as he stood outside your gate and asked for help in that strange, silken voice. You’d been at the basin, elbows deep in washing, and Remmick had leaned against the doorframe with that crooked smile of his and said, “Back in an hour, love.”

But he didn’t come back.

Not that night. Not the next. Not the one after that either.

The village didn’t offer much. A few shrugs, a few mumbled guesses about Dublin work or wrong turns. Someone said they’d seen him near the grove two days after, speaking to no one. But no one really knew anything. No one seemed to care like you did, not even close.

And you — you were unraveling in silence.

Your hands still reached for two plates at supper, even though you only managed a few bites. His shirts were still on the line, starched stiff by the sun. You slept on his side of the bed and dreamt half the time that the mattress shifted under his weight — that his breath tickled your shoulder, that his hand slid up your thigh like nothing had ever gone wrong.

But the bed was always empty by morning. And you stopped setting the table for two.

The house was quiet in a way it had never been, even before him. You hated it. Hated the way the wind pressed against the shutters like fingers trying to slip in. Hated the sound of your own voice when you called for him without thinking. Hated the silence more.

And the heat — Christ, the heat didn’t help. The summer refused to die, clinging on like a fever, like something sick in the lungs of the world. Even though the leaves were curling at the edges and the fields outside had turned to brittle gold, even though the sky went orange far too early and the cicadas screamed like they were begging for the end — still, it stayed. Heavy. Wet. Oppressive.

It pressed down on you like a second skin. You couldn’t move without feeling the sweat pool in the bend of your elbows, your thighs, the hollow at the base of your spine. The nightgown you wore to bed — one of his favorites, he used to tease you about how soft it was — clung to you like it had teeth, plastered against your breasts, the backs of your knees, the dip of your stomach.

You barely slept. Not really. Just lay there, night after night, your limbs too hot to be still, heart too frantic to rest. Sometimes you’d drift — never for long — and always wake with a start, breath stuck in your throat like something had gripped it. You’d wake clutching the sheets, wild-eyed, convinced you’d heard his voice calling from outside the window, soft and slanted and sweet the way only he said your name. But there’d be nothing. Just the open air and the humming heat and the wind through the eaves like a breath that never finished.

You stopped eating too. At first, it was because you couldn’t keep anything down — the nausea sat heavy in your gut, sour and mean — but then it became something else. Like forgetting. You’d boil water for tea and let it cool untouched. You’d leave bread out until it stiffened. The butter melted to nothing in the dish, but you didn’t move to put it away. Everything was too still. Too loud. Too much. You walked through the house like it was someone else’s, like you were waiting to wake up in the right one again, the one where he came through the door at dusk smelling like cut hay and sweat, grumbling about supper and kissing you before you could speak.

That night — the night he came back — was no different.

You’d given up trying to sleep hours before, the mattress too warm, the sheets too tangled. You’d taken to the floor, cheek pressed to the boards that still held some whisper of coolness. Your body was damp with sweat, the cotton of your gown twisted and wrung around you, and still you didn’t move. The house was quiet but not peaceful. The silence felt thick, like the walls were holding their breath.

The scent of him — linen, warm and clean, and that old citrus soap he used to lather all the way up to his throat — lingered faintly in the air, though you hadn’t touched the basin in days.

You tried to tell yourself it was in your head, that it was just the last remnants of a memory you weren’t ready to let go of. But some nights, it was stronger than others, and you swore the air itself felt thick with him, as if the very walls of the house carried the imprint of his presence, as though his scent bled out through the floorboards, lingering in the spaces where his footsteps had once been. It clung to the edges of the night, curling around you, unwelcome but familiar. And you couldn't seem to shake it.

The lantern burned low, the flickering light casting long, wavering shadows across the room, soft and golden against the walls. The wick had started to gutter, sputtering faintly with each breath of air, and the light seemed to shrink in the small space, leaving more darkness in its wake.

The heat of the summer was still thick in the room, the sticky humidity inescapable even in the cool of night. Everything felt close, as though the air itself was pressing in on you. The shadows danced, stretched across the room like fingers reaching for something, and you hovered in that strange, drifting place between sleep and something else — not quite awake, not quite dreaming. It was a liminal space where time didn’t seem to exist, where everything felt like it might slip away at any moment.

Then the knock came.

It was soft. Three taps. Nothing urgent. But something about it made you stop.

You didn’t move at first. You blinked up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the sound, your mind slow, the fog of exhaustion still clinging to your senses. You thought maybe it was a trick, your brain playing games with you after so many restless nights. After all, who would be out here now? The village was far, and no one came by this late — especially not in this kind of heat. The knock was so gentle, like a whisper, like someone uncertain. It should’ve been nothing. But there it was again, a ripple in the stillness.

Then it came again.

This time, slower. Heavier. Familiar.

You didn’t think — not at first. Not until your feet began to move without you willing them to. You rose on unsteady legs, your nightgown twisting around your legs as you took each step. Bare feet skimmed the cool wooden floorboards, the sound of your own breathing loud in the otherwise empty house. You crossed to the door, and the air was thick around you, sticky with something like anticipation — like the stillness of the moment had expanded, stretching everything out just a little too long, holding its breath.

Your heart hadn’t started to beat faster yet. It was too stunned, too unsure of what to feel. It was like you’d been frozen in time, suspended in something you couldn’t quite define. Your body moved without your permission, like it knew something you didn’t. You reached for the door, hand trembling just a little as you wrapped your fingers around the cool wood, but you still couldn’t quite bring yourself to open it. You felt the hesitation — your mind, still too slow to catch up with what your body already knew, already feared.

Another knock.

This time, the air felt different. Something heavier hung between the beats of silence, like the world itself was waiting with you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you hesitated for a moment longer, but then you slowly pulled the door open, the sound of the hinges creaking loud in the quiet night.

The light from the lantern flickered against the doorframe, casting strange, long shadows as the night air washed over you, thick with the scent of earth and warmth. The breeze carried with it a distant hum, but it was nothing compared to the silence that surrounded you, enclosing you in its grip.

Standing there, on the threshold, was a figure. A shape you knew all too well.

You froze.

At first, you couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, because what was there to say? Your mind struggled to process, to find words that made sense, that could explain this moment — but none came.

Instead, you simply stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, your breath shallow as you stared at the figure before you.

He stood there, just outside the door, looking like he’d just stepped out of bed — though anyone who’d seen him at his most disheveled would’ve known better. His shirt was perfectly buttoned, sleeves neatly rolled up, not a wrinkle in sight. His trousers were so pristine they looked like they’d never touched a speck of dirt, not even the tiniest fleck of mud clinging to the hems.

It was like he’d never been gone, like he’d just stepped out of some painting, his sharp jawline cutting through the warm glow, the steady rise and fall of his chest a mockery of the sleepless nights you’d spent wondering where the hell he was.

He looked... perfect. Untouched. As though he’d been lounging on the other side of the world, waiting for the perfect moment to stroll back into your life. His hair was slightly ruffled, but it was the kind of ruffled you only get from running your fingers through it when you're trying to look like you’ve just had a wild night of passion — not from anything remotely chaotic. His expression, however, hadn’t changed at all. That same, cocky tilt to his lips. That same glint in his eyes that you’d once spent so many hours getting lost in.

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something — but he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at you like you were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, taking in your reaction.

You stepped forward, your heart suddenly doing that mad thing again, racing in your chest, but he didn’t move. No hurry. No rush. He was too damn calm.

“Remmick,” you whispered, your voice trembling in spite of yourself. “Jesus, Remmick, where—?”

At the sound of his name, he flinched. That was the first thing that hit you — the first real sign that something wasn’t quite right.

You reached for him, instinctively, your hand brushing the doorframe as if to anchor yourself. His eyes snapped to your fingers, and he blinked slowly, like he’d just noticed them. Like he'd just remembered how to blink, or how to breathe. His lips curled into that trademark smirk, the one that made you want to both kiss him and strangle him all at once.

“Well, ain’t you lookin' all kinds of worried,” he drawled, his voice thick and hoarse, rolling over each word like melted honey. It should’ve been comforting, but there was something so off about it. His throat worked like he was forcing the words out. “I’m sure you’ve been wonderin' where the hell I’ve been, huh?”

You couldn’t find the words to answer. You just stared at him, waiting for something — anything — that would explain this. He was too damn calm. Too perfect.

He tilted his head, still standing there like he hadn’t been gone for weeks. Still looking like the man you remembered — and yet, not at all. “But listen, sugar,” he said, voice a little softer now, “there’s one little thing I need before I can explain any of this. You’ve gotta invite me in. Just a little ‘come on in,’ and I’ll tell you everything you wanna know.”

You blinked. “What?”

He chuckled, low and rich, but the sound didn’t quite reach his eyes. No, those eyes were something else now. Something distant. Like he wasn’t really here. Something far away, watching you through a pane of glass, maybe.

“I know, I know. You think I’m jokin’, don’t you?” His lips twisted into a smile that made your insides twist. But you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. “But I ain’t. It’s simple, really,” he added, dropping his voice just enough to make your heartbeat a little faster than it should’ve. “You just gotta let me in, and I’ll tell you everythin’ you wanna know.”

The sarcasm in his voice should’ve been enough. Should’ve been all you needed to shut the door and run, because what the hell was this? But no, something about the way he stood there, the casual arrogance, the way his eyes never wavered from yours — it was so him. And in the back of your mind, the part you couldn’t quiet, something told you this was no longer the man you had married, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. Not yet.

You didn’t ask why. You should’ve. You wanted to. But you didn’t.

Instead, you stepped back, your hand falling instinctively to the door, your fingers curling around the old wood. You swallowed, voice barely above a whisper as you spoke.

“Come in, then.”

And just like that, he did.

His boots met the floorboards with a slow, deliberate rhythm — not loud, not quiet, just enough to echo faintly in the stillness of the room. It was a sound you’d come to know too well, a sound that carried the weight of both absence and presence.

Every step reverberated in the air like a reminder of the days he’d been gone, a reminder that he was here now. The hollow tap of his boots scraped against your thoughts, making the air feel thick, almost oppressive. Familiar. Tangible. But this time, it sent a shiver down your spine, deeper than it ever had before, like his very presence was waking up something deep within you, something locked up tight these last few weeks. 

It kicked something loose in your chest — a mix of dread and relief, something you couldn’t put a name to. And yet, you couldn’t pull your eyes away, couldn’t look anywhere else but at him, even as that feeling twisted around inside you, coiling and unfurling.

He crossed the threshold with a steady, measured stride, like he’d never left. Like nothing had happened. As if two weeks had somehow faded into nothing more than a passing moment. No apology. No explanation. Just him, here, in the doorway — the same way he always had. Like no space had grown between you, like no time had been lost. Like the silence that had stretched on endlessly in his absence didn’t matter. But it did. You could feel it. 

The room had changed, the house had changed. And you? You had changed. The air around him seemed to buzz with an energy that hadn’t been there before, but it was subtle, hiding beneath the surface. Even as he walked into that familiar space, it felt like he wasn’t just walking into the room — he was walking into everything that had happened while he was gone. Every moment. Every second. And yet, his gaze was calm, almost too calm, as if none of it mattered to him at all.

His eyes moved through the room the same way they always had, like they were cataloging everything in their path. A quick, quiet sweep — slow but unhurried. Measuring, thoughtful. Calculating. Like he was mentally clocking what had changed in the room, the small details, the things he hadn’t seen in the time away. The rearranged furniture. The dust on the counter. The cracks in the walls that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge any of it. It was as though nothing could surprise him.

 Nothing could rattle him. And yet, as his gaze slid over the room, you could feel him noticing everything without ever giving it away on his face. He’d always been like that — careful, observant, measuring every move, every flicker of life in the space around him. But this time, the gaze wasn’t just detached. It felt more deliberate, sharper, like he was seeing things he hadn’t noticed before. Things that hadn’t been there when he left. Things that had changed.

Then, just as you started to breathe again, his eyes landed on you.

And something flickered. Just for a split second. It wasn’t enough to give away what he was thinking — not enough to let you know what he felt, what he was seeing — but it was there. A momentary pause in the rhythm of his movements, a subtle change in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his focus sharpened. He took you in with a slow, deliberate gaze, his eyes tracing the lines of you like he was committing every detail to memory, cataloging the parts of you that hadn’t been there before, the parts of you that had.

The way your nightgown clung to your skin, a little too thin against the chill of the air. The hollows under your eyes, deeper than they should have been, shadows that had settled there from nights of worrying, waiting, wondering. The way your shoulders slumped under the weight of it all — the weight of him, the weight of the silence, the weight of the uncertainty that had been crushing you for far too long. 

You hadn’t even realized you were holding yourself like that. Not until the way he looked at you made you painfully aware. His gaze didn’t linger in the way it used to, with that softness, that familiarity. No, it was sharper. More focused. More calculating. He noticed it all — the small things that would’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else, the things you had no choice but to live with. And for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he saw you the way you saw yourself now — broken in places, frayed at the edges, and wearing a mask that didn’t fit anymore.

“You look like hell,” he said, voice low, matter-of-fact. It wasn’t cruel or mocking — not even judgmental, really. It was just a simple observation, something he’d been meaning to say. Like it needed saying, and now it had been, and that was all. The words lingered in the air, hanging between you, but they didn’t cut. They didn’t have the power to hurt, not anymore. You already knew.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry, the bitter taste of his absence still on the tip of your tongue. Your fingers tightened reflexively around the doorframe, as if it might somehow steady you. The weight of his gaze was like a hand pressing on your chest, and you hated how small you felt under it, how fragile.

“I waited,” you said, the words feeling tight, like something heavy stuck in your chest. “I—every night, I—” Your voice faltered, like the years you’d spent with him were still too much to process, too big to put into simple words. How could you explain the long, slow unraveling of yourself, the endless hours you’d spent wondering where he was, if he was dead, if he was coming back at all?

He sighed, a deep, worn-out sound, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to shake off the weight of something heavier than the air around you. “I know,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying that same underlying edge of exhaustion.

“Then why—?” The question almost caught in your throat before you could get it out. It wasn’t just the ‘why’ of his disappearance. It was the ‘why now,’ the why after everything.

“Don’t,” he cut in, not sharply, but with an edge that cut through the air between you. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. It was just... tired. “Not yet.”

You stared at him, blinking against the sudden wave of emotions you couldn’t sort through. His words didn’t make sense, but that was nothing new. Not with him. “You can’t just walk in here and expect me not to ask.” Your voice cracked slightly, and you hated it. But what else was there to do? How could you stay quiet after everything?

“I’m not expecting anything,” he muttered, the words rough, like they didn’t quite fit his mouth. “I’m telling you I need a minute.” He said it like it was simple, like everything could be boiled down to that one sentence, but the air between you felt heavier now, thick with all the things he wasn’t saying.

The words should’ve stung, should’ve pressed against the anger burning in your gut, but they didn’t. They didn’t hurt the way you thought they would. Instead, they just sank deep into you, settling into the ache that had already been growing there. A quiet, hollow ache. A place where everything else had slipped away.

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered, the words so soft, so fragile, it felt like they might break apart in the air. “I thought—” You couldn’t finish. It didn’t matter. He’d heard it, and that was enough. That was everything.

His jaw flexed — the smallest movement, but it didn’t escape you. The flicker of something in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? You couldn’t be sure, but it was there, and it was gone just as quickly as it had come. He didn’t look at you, didn’t speak. He just kept his back to you, his posture stiff, like the weight of your words was too much.

“I know,” he said again, quieter this time, almost... softer. His gaze stayed fixed on the floor, his voice unsteady now, like he was dragging the words out. “It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

“Then how was it supposed to go?” You didn’t mean for the question to come out so sharp, but it did. Your own voice sounded foreign to you, distant, like you didn’t recognize it anymore.

He didn’t answer. Not immediately. He just bent down to toe off his boots, the movement slow and deliberate, as if he was giving himself time to think. Or maybe just time to avoid you. To avoid answering. He set them neatly by the door, as though it was just any other night. Then, without a word, he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands, the motion dragging his shirt tight against his chest, the muscles beneath it shifting in a way that reminded you of the man you used to know — the one who could move through a room like he owned it.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” he said. The words were soft, almost a whisper. “Not yet. I need a wash. And some damn sleep.”

You opened your mouth — maybe to protest, maybe to beg, maybe to demand more. But he was already moving down the hall, his shoulders stiff with something you couldn’t place, like the tension in his back was enough to pull the rest of him away from you. The heat of him lingered in the air for a moment longer, heavy and unspoken, before it started to fade.

“Remmick,” you called, the name slipping out before you could stop it. He didn’t turn around, didn’t even pause. But he didn’t completely ignore you, either.

He slowed, just enough to let you know he’d heard. The silence stretched between you.

“I should be angry,” you said, voice trembling, more to yourself than to him.

A beat passed — long, drawn-out. Then he spoke, his voice barely a murmur. “You should be,” he said, but there was something strange about it. Something unreadable. “But not tonight.”

And with that, he disappeared around the corner, his figure melting into the shadows of the hallway. The sound of water running came a few moments later, too sharp, too loud in the otherwise quiet house, breaking the silence that had settled like a weight between you.

You stood there for a long time, long after he was gone.

Your hand still pressed against the doorframe, your fingers numb, as if you were holding onto something that was already slipping away. The scent of him — soap, sweat, earth, and something that was just... him — lingered faintly in the air. It curled around the room like the ghost of the man who had once been everything to you. And even though he was there, so close, you could feel the distance between you, stretching farther with each second that passed.

You finally pulled yourself away from the doorframe, the pressure in your fingers dissipating slowly. The sound of the water running—loud, steady—told you he was in the shower.

Without thinking much, you made your way up the stairs, the quiet of the house wrapping around you. The stillness felt a bit too much, like the air was holding its breath, waiting for something that hadn’t been said.

You entered the bedroom, the familiar scent of the sheets and the faint smell of his cologne still lingering in the room. For a moment, you just stood there, your eyes tracing the space like you were seeing it for the first time.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, the coolness of the sheets surprisingly comforting. It felt strange, being in here alone once again, but the exhaustion was too much to ignore. The bed was warm, the kind of warmth that felt right, even though things between you two didn’t feel that way anymore.

You stretched out, letting your body sink deeper into the comfort of the mattress. Without meaning to, your eyes fluttered closed, the soft hum of the water below lulling you into a quiet space of your own. Thoughts drifted, but the pull of sleep was stronger.

And before you even realized it, the exhaustion had taken over. The tension from earlier faded, replaced by the quiet rhythm of your breathing and the distant sound of water running.

You were asleep before you could even stop yourself.

You didn’t wake all at once. It came in pieces, slow and disjointed — a vague sense of wrongness settling in before your body even caught up. The kind of stirring that made your brows draw together before your eyes opened, as if some part of you already knew something wasn’t right. Like your body remembered a warning your mind hadn’t yet caught onto. It wasn’t the dark or the silence that did it. It was just... a feeling. A weight in your chest. An ache you couldn’t place.

And then — sharp. Sudden. At the base of your neck.

It wasn’t just pain. It was dragging, hot and deep, like someone had sunk something beneath your skin and left it there to fester. You drew in a breath too fast through your nose, air catching in your throat as your hand moved, half-conscious, to the source of it. Fingers brushed skin that was warmer than it should’ve been, too sensitive, and damp.

Not with sweat.

Not with tears.

When you pulled your hand back, you saw it even before your eyes had fully adjusted.

Blood.

Smearing across the pads of your fingers in thin streaks, tacky and fresh. Your breath stuttered. It didn’t make sense. Not at first. Your mind fumbled, still heavy from sleep — still hoping for something reasonable. A nosebleed, maybe. A bad dream. Anything that didn’t explain why your neck felt like it was pulsing beneath your skin, hot and raw.

But the moment your fingertips found the punctures — two, clean, unmistakable — that shaky hope snapped.

You sat up, not fast, not slow — just enough to know your body didn’t want to cooperate. Your spine felt weak, your shoulders heavy, like you’d been drugged or drowned or left to unravel. The fog in your mind hadn’t cleared, not fully, but it parted just enough to register the absence beside you.

The bed was empty.

And not just empty — cold.

His side of the mattress had no trace of warmth. No indentation, no shifting blanket, no smell of him lingering on the pillow like it usually did. Just stillness. And space.

Your stomach dropped in that quiet, breathless way that only came when something inside you recognized danger before your brain could name it. Because this wasn’t new, was it? That bone-deep panic, that flash of he’s gone—you’d lived it before. And still, even now, the idea of him vanishing again hollowed out your lungs.

You sat up straighter, hand still pressed to your neck, your pulse knocking unevenly under your palm.

“Remmick?”

Your voice cracked when you said his name. Not loudly — barely above a whisper — but it still felt like it shattered something. Like it didn’t belong in the room the way it used to.

Silence.

Not the safe kind.

The kind that pressed back.

You waited. One second. Then two. Then ten.

Still nothing. No answer. No creak of footsteps. No familiar drawl or shift of weight or even the soft drag of breath beside you.

And that was when fear bloomed. Quiet and wide, like ink dropped in water.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, trying to steady your hands, your thoughts, your pulse. The ache in your neck burned again, and you bit down hard to stop from crying out — half from the pain, half from the mounting realization that you didn’t know what had happened.

You were just about to rise when a sound broke through the thick stillness — soft, so subtle you almost missed it.

A creak. Wood shifting under weight. You turned sharply. 

And your breath caught. Remmick was sitting by the window. Still. Half in shadow, half painted in pale moonlight, just enough for you to see him clearly — or at least enough to see what mattered. 

He wasn’t looking out the window. He was looking at you. He was watching you.

Not startled. Not guilty. Just still — like he had been for hours, like he hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d left your side. The chair beneath him creaked softly as he shifted his weight, but even that felt deliberate. Intentional. The kind of quiet that didn’t happen by accident.

One arm rested across the side of the chair, the other draped loosely over his lap — casual, composed, but there was a tension in him now, something unreadable coiled beneath his skin.

And then you saw it.

The blood.

It caught the light as he turned just slightly, glinting red against the pale of his jaw. It smeared along the corner of his mouth, wet and stark and so out of place. He hadn’t wiped it away. Hadn’t tried to hide it. It was yours.

A breath snagged in your throat, sharp and quick. Your pulse skipped — or maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was something else now. Something slower. Something changed.

Your hand flew back to your neck — faster this time, not careful, not hesitant — and this time, you felt the truth in full.

Two points.

Sharp. Precise. Still tender.

Still fresh.

Your fingers pressed against the small wounds, and even that tiny pressure made the ache flare again, deeper now, pulling at something beneath the surface of your skin. It was like touching a place that wasn’t fully yours anymore.

Your blood. On his mouth.

Your breath caught, and your eyes locked on him again.

He hadn’t moved.

Just sat there. Watching.

His eyes were different now. You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed it before — maybe the dark had masked it, or maybe your mind hadn’t wanted to see it. But they were colder. Calmer. Less human.

You opened your mouth — maybe to speak, maybe to scream — but no sound came.

That’s when he said it.

Soft. Measured. Like he already knew.

“Hey baby.”

Two words, quiet as dust settling, but they shattered something in you anyway.

Because you had woken up in panic — empty bed, aching body, blood on your fingertips — and for a moment, you thought he’d done it and left. Like before. Vanished again into the dark like he always had. But he hadn’t.

He’d stayed.

And maybe that was worse.

Your voice came back slowly, a rasp barely held together. “What did you do?”

He didn’t answer. Not right away. His eyes never left yours, and he didn’t look sorry. Didn’t look afraid. Just… resolute. Like whatever line he’d crossed tonight had been waiting in the sand for a long time.

Finally, he spoke — and this time, his voice held something else. Something heavy.

“I couldn’t lose you to what I am now.” The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full — too full — of everything he wasn’t saying. What he’d done. What it meant. What you were now.

Your gaze snapped to him — sharp, panicked, disbelieving — and the horror that had been simmering beneath your skin finally cracked wide open across your face. Your chest heaved, breath catching in uneven stutters as your hands began to tremble, fingertips smeared with your own blood, still wet against your throat.

And he just sat there.

Watching.

Still.

It wasn’t the ache in your neck that made your voice break — it was the realization settling like ice in your bones. The finality of it.

Your fingers shook as you held them up — bloodstained, trembling, helpless.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you choked out, your voice cracking open under the weight of it. “Remmick, what—what did you do?”

It wasn’t just fear in your voice. It was grief. Rage. Betrayal.

Your throat closed up around the last word, and your vision swam. You could feel your pulse thundering in your ears, but not in the way it used to — not in the way that made you feel alive. It was distant now. Hollow. Like something inside you had been scooped out and replaced with something colder. Hungrier.

He still didn’t move. His hands were clasped loosely in his lap, posture calm — almost reverent. The only thing that betrayed him was the faint tension in his jaw. Like even he didn’t quite know how to explain what he’d done.

“I had to,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper.

You flinched.

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head so hard it made your vision blur. “No, you—you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to—fuck, Remmick—”

Your voice broke again, and this time you didn’t try to stop it. The tears came without permission, hot and sudden, streaking down your face as you stared at him like he was someone you didn’t recognize.

Like he wasn’t him anymore.

Or maybe this had always been him.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Still, he didn’t rise. Just watched you — a war in his eyes, but no regret on his face.

Only inevitability.

You noticed it the second you moved — the way his eyes locked on to you, tracking every small tremble in your limbs as you rose from the bed on shaky legs. There was no concern in his expression, no guilt. Just a quiet, intent focus that wrapped around you like a snare. He didn’t flinch at the sight of your blood, or at the way your breath caught in your throat, or even at the disbelief etched so plainly across your face.

If anything… he looked calm. Unshaken. Like this had always been the plan.

His gaze followed the stutter of your steps, the way your hand still hovered near your neck as if trying to protect it from him — from what he had already done. A glint flickered in his eyes then. Not regret. Not sorrow.

Possession.

And when he finally spoke, his voice was low — steady in a way that made your blood run colder than anything else.

“You really think I’d let you live out the rest of your days like that?” he asked, his tone almost casual, like he was surprised by the very idea. “Still human? Still breakable?” He scoffed faintly, shaking his head, and took a slow step forward. “Like hell I would.”

He paused, watching you. Letting it sink in. Then his voice dropped further, rougher, the edge of something else — something darker — slipping beneath every word.

“You think I’d walk away forever, leave you behind while I disappeared into something you’d never understand?” His lip curled, not quite a smile — too sharp, too cold. “You think I’d let you grow old without me? Let you forget me?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and the silence stretched, thick and humming with something terrible.

“No, darlin’,” he said, his voice soft now — too soft. “No. That was never gonna happen.”

He took another step, and this time you could feel the air shift around him, like the whole room was holding its breath. “I made sure of that,” he continued, and the words dripped like oil from his lips. “I had to. The second they turned me — the second I felt what it really meant to hunger, to need—”

He let the sentence hang there, unfinished, heavy.

“That was when I knew,” he said, quieter now. “I couldn’t leave without you. Wouldn’t. Not when every part of me still belonged to you, even after death. Especially after.”

Your knees nearly buckled at the intensity in his voice — not shouted, not frantic. Just certain. Like he was telling you gravity existed. Like he was telling you the sky was blue.

He stepped closer still, until the distance between you was no more than a breath. He looked down at you, eyes dark, but lit with something that made your skin crawl — reverence, obsession, devotion twisted into something monstrous.

“I took the choice from you,” he said. “Because I knew you’d fight it. Knew you’d beg me not to. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not when the thought of you out there without me — without this — felt worse than hell itself.”

His hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach out but knew it would break you completely if he did.

“You’re mine now, always have been,” he breathed. “In blood. In life. In death. There’s no going back.”

He leaned in, so close you could feel the chill of him, and whispered like it was a promise stitched straight into your soul.

“You ain’t ever leavin’ me, sweetheart. Not in this life. Not in the next. We end where we began.”

You staggered backwards, your heart pounding in your chest as you fought against the rising wave of nausea threatening to overtake you. The blood on your hands, the feel of it still fresh and wet, clung to you like a confession — one you couldn't escape. You couldn’t focus on anything else, not the cold air seeping in around the edges of the room, not the way his gaze followed you like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You made a choice for me, is that it?” The words ripped from you like a scream, raw and jagged, a desperate plea for control you knew you no longer had. Your voice cracked, breaking under the weight of it, yet you still pushed forward, each step farther from him. As if distance could undo the horror of the night. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask for any of it!”

You could hear your breath coming in ragged gasps now, your body trembling as if every nerve was alight, your fingers pressing into your sides like you could somehow squeeze the truth out of your skin. “I ain’t wanna live forever,” you spat, the words dripping with a mixture of fear and rage that burned like acid in your throat. “You sick fuck... you thought you could just make that decision for me? Just change everything about who I am, who I was—for what?!”

His silence, that cold, relentless stillness, only made the anger surge deeper. He didn’t move, didn’t speak — just watched, those eyes of his dark with something far too hungry for comfort. Every muscle in your body screamed at you to run, to get out of this — to get away from him before whatever he’d done to you fully took hold. But there was nowhere to go. Not anymore.

“Why?” you cried, your voice breaking, shaking as the tears spilled freely down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop them. You didn’t even try. “Why did you come back?! You should have just stayed wherever the hell you came from!” The words felt like they were choking you as they left your lips. They were too sharp, too brutal, but they were all you had left. “Why drag me into this? Why do this to me? You don’t even care what I want, do you?!”

The sobs caught in your chest, short and ragged, but the fury burned hotter with each passing moment. You swiped at your eyes, trying to clear away the tears, but it felt pointless. He had taken something you couldn’t ever get back, something far more important than just your body. He had taken your choice. He had stolen everything from you. And the worst part? He didn’t even see it as wrong.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, the ache in your neck now a distant throb compared to the tidal wave of betrayal that had you on your knees — metaphorically, physically, you didn’t know anymore. Your body was moving without your permission, words spilling out that you couldn’t take back.

“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?!” you screamed, your hands shaking so violently, you couldn’t hold them still. Your mind felt like it was spiraling, everything you thought you knew about him — everything you thought you knew about you — coming apart in pieces too small to gather back together.

But he just stood there. His face unreadable. His eyes locked on you, like he was savoring every word, every tear that fell. A strange, twisted satisfaction in the way you collapsed before him — not physically, but in every other way.

The silence stretched long, too long. It felt suffocating, like the air had turned dense, thick with the weight of what had just happened, what was happening, and what could still come. Your mind scrambled for some sort of answer, something that would make this make sense, but all you could see was him — Remmick, standing there, the man who had just destroyed everything you thought you knew about yourself.

He didn’t speak at first. He just stared at you, those dark eyes taking in every sob, every shake of your body, as if he were trying to commit it all to memory. A predator, studying its prey.

Then, finally, his voice came. Low. Dark. Almost as if he were enjoying the chaos he had stirred.

“You think you’re the only one in pain here, darling?” His words slid over you like cold venom. “You think you’re the only one who has had their choice ripped away?”

You froze. The air in the room seemed to thicken, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. He stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, each movement carrying with it an almost cruel calmness. His eyes never left yours, his gaze narrowing just slightly, something dark and possessive creeping across his features.

“You think I wanted this?” he asked, his voice like gravel scraping against metal. “I didn’t want this any more than you did. But it’s too late now, isn’t it?” He took another step, closing the distance between you, and you could feel your legs trembling beneath you, as if your body was betraying you, unwilling to stand firm in the face of the terror he had brought.

“I didn’t come back for me, you know,” he continued, his voice taking on that same low, obsessive tone. “I came back for you. You’re mine, and now you’re going to understand that. I made you like me because I had to. You think I’d let you go on pretending you were something other than what you are now? What we are? We belong to each other, whether you like it or not.”

Each word hit like a slap, sharp and unforgiving. Your stomach twisted, nausea threatening to spill over again, but this time it wasn’t from the blood on your hands. It was from the venom in his voice, the surety in the way he spoke, like this was his world now — and you were nothing but a piece of it.

“You really think you could just walk away from me?” he muttered, taking another step closer, and this time, the air seemed to crackle with an unspoken threat. “You think you can just run? You’re not leaving me. Not now, not ever.” He paused, and his eyes darkened. "I gave you this gift, and you'll learn to appreciate it, whether you want to or not."

The fear, the panic that had been simmering beneath the surface, broke free like a dam shattering. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him.

Your feet moved before your mind could catch up. You turned, stumbling towards the door, your breath coming in short, frantic gasps. Get out. Get away.

But you didn’t make it far. Not nearly far enough.

Before you could even reach the door, his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair with brutal force. The pain was immediate and sharp, the pressure of his grip causing a cry to break from your throat. You tried to struggle, to yank yourself free, but his hold was like iron.

“No,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous, as he yanked you backward. “You’re not running from me. Not now. Not ever.”

Your body collided with the bed, and before you could recover, he was on you — heavy, suffocating, with an air of finality you could feel deep in your bones. His grip on your hair didn’t loosen, dragging you further onto the bed, pinning you down as if you were nothing more than a doll in his hands.

“Let go of me!” You shoved at his chest, weakly, your hands trembling with desperation. Your words came out in a broken, panicked rasp, your voice barely recognizable. “I said, let me go!”

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned down, his breath warm and ragged against your ear as his fingers tightened their grip on your hair, forcing your head back. The pressure was suffocating, like the very essence of you was being crushed under the weight of his presence. You tried to twist beneath him, your limbs flailing weakly in an attempt to push him off, but it felt useless. Your movements were sluggish, your body still reeling from everything he had done to you. Every nerve screamed for escape, but your strength was slipping away, leaving you feeling more fragile than ever.

“You’re wasting your energy, darling,” his voice was low, almost amused as he pressed closer to you. “You can fight all you want. You can scream. But it won’t change a thing. You’re mine now, and there’s no running from that.”

“Why?” you gasped, the word coming out more like a plea than a question. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

His eyes gleamed, dark with something dangerous — possessive, obsessive. “Because you belong to me. Everything about you, everything that makes you, you, it was always meant to be mine. Do you understand?” His lips curled into a wicked smile as he hovered just above you, his eyes never leaving yours, studying every flicker of emotion that passed across your face. “You can hate me for it all you want, but this is what you were always meant to be. Don’t you see? You can’t escape fate.”

Tears blurred your vision as your breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. Every inch of you wanted to scream, to claw at him, to push him off, but it felt like the fight was draining out of you with each passing second. You continued to struggle beneath him, your hands pushing against his chest, weak and trembling.

“No!” You spat, your voice raw with anguish and fury. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The sobs came again, racking through your chest in desperate, painful waves. “You took my life from me! You took everything from me!”

His expression twisted, his eyes flashing with something dangerous, something darker than anything you’d seen before. His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling your head back further, exposing your neck to him as he loomed over you.

“You don’t get it,” he whispered, his voice full of a dark, possessive thrill. “You think you’re losing everything, but you haven’t lost a thing. You’re with me, and that’s all that matters. That’s all you need to understand.”

You choked on your own breath as the weight of his words settled over you. His grip on your hair dragged you deeper into the bed, making it impossible to look away. But even through the pain, you felt a surge of rage rise up within you, stronger now than ever before. With every ounce of strength you had left, you pushed your hands against his chest again, shoving with every last bit of energy you could muster.

Remmick took an almost sadistic delight in pain now, something you hadn’t known about him before. Before he was turned, he had been nothing but soft — a gentle touch, a soothing voice, a warmth that never failed to comfort you. But now, the cruelty in his eyes, the way he reveled in your suffering, was something entirely new.

Your bed had never felt so unforgiving beneath you. The struggle was fierce, a brutal clash of wills that left your body aching and your heart racing with a mix of fear and fury. Each movement felt like it was costing you something, each strike against him a desperate plea for control that seemed to slip through your fingers with every passing second. In that moment, you were fighting for your life. Or at least, it felt like you were—because in a way, you had already lost it, the life you once knew, the one you thought you had, was gone.

Remmick’s head jerked to the side as your fist connected with his cheek, the force of it sending a brief flash of satisfaction through you. But you didn't stop there. You lashed out again, driven by the need to push him back, to feel some shred of power over the chaos. Your knuckles grazed the sharp edge of his jaw, the impact drawing blood—warm, dark, and unmistakably real.

But instead of retreating, instead of giving you the space you needed, it only made him more feral. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and the raw anger in his eyes burned hotter, deeper, like a fire stoked by every drop of blood you spilled. It was clear now that your resistance wasn’t making him back off—it was making him hunger for more. The blood, your blood, didn’t weaken him. It emboldened him, and that realization hit you harder than any of your blows.

His grip on you tightened, forcing your body back into the bed, his weight pressing down on you with a suffocating finality. Every movement felt heavy, as though every inch of ground you gained was immediately lost under the weight of his presence. And you fought, tried to shove him off, but he just absorbed it, his body not giving an inch, his eyes burning with a dark satisfaction. He wasn’t just enjoying this struggle; he was feeding off it.

The sharp sound of fabric ripping echoed through the room, the soft material of your nightgown shredding with terrifying ease under the force of his grip. Each tear seemed to magnify the tension in the air, adding to the sense of powerlessness that clawed at you. The cool night air kissed your bare skin, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine as the fabric came apart piece by piece. Goosebumps bloomed along your arms, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the heat of your skin, still burning from the proximity.

It was as though time had slowed, the cold bite of the room amplifying your vulnerability. But no matter how much you tried to twist, to wriggle away, his hold was relentless—each move you made only made it worse. His strength, like something primal and undeniable, was something you couldn’t fight, no matter how hard you tried. The night seemed to grow colder, harsher, and all you could feel was the weight of his presence, closing in.

Remmick didn’t hesitate, his lips curling into something dark before he sank his teeth into your skin, the sharp bite sending a jolt of pain through you. A startled cry escaped your lips, the sudden intrusion taking your breath away. Desperately, you pushed at his head, your hands shaking as you fought to regain control, the pressure of his weight on you overwhelming.

When Remmick entered you so suddenly, a forbidden heat flared within you, a visceral response that your body registered as good even as your mind recoiled. Tears blurred your vision as you stared at the dark shape looming above, every instinct screaming for him to stop, yet a shameful throb pulsed between your legs, a betrayal of your will.

Each thrust was a brutal act, yet a perverse wave of sensation followed, a tightening and clenching that was undeniably potent but utterly unwanted in this moment of force. Your nails tore at the sheets, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself against the confusing storm of physical pleasure intertwined with the horror of the violation. 

Your body, against your conscious desire, began to heat and clench with a shameful insistence, a biological response at odds with your desperate wish for it to end, for him to be gone. You squeezed your eyes shut, a silent scream against the unwelcome sensations that bloomed within you even as you longed for release from his presence.

A raw, electric heat jolted through you, coiling low in your belly and sending involuntary tremors that rippled through your thighs. You bit down hard on your lip, the sharp sting a fragile anchor against the overwhelming tide of sensation threatening to drown your will.

Remmick's low laugh rumbled against your ear, a possessive sound that vibrated through your very bones. Your eyes flickered open, finding his gaze locked onto yours, a dark, consuming intensity that held you captive.

His skin glistened with a slick sheen of sweat, catching the dim light and mirroring the feverish dampness clinging to your own heated flesh. Strands of dark, tousled hair fell across his brow, shadowing his intent gaze as he watched you. A molten warmth spread through your core, a wildfire of unfamiliar sensations that licked at your resolve, threatening to obliterate your resistance. 

Your breath hitched, a ragged gasp escaping your lips as your gaze dropped to the visceral joining of your bodies, the point of intense friction and burgeoning pleasure. A primal hunger flared in his eyes, a raw possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. His tongue flicked out to wet his parted lips, a silent testament to the desire that gripped him.

"Mmm, look at you, darlin'," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble laced with that slow Southern drawl. "Just tremblin' for me, ain't ya? Every little inch of you." His hips slammed against yours, a relentless, driving rhythm that stole the air from your lungs and sent dizzying pulses of sensation radiating through your body, each deep connection igniting a fresh wave of intense, spiraling pleasure that warred with your inner turmoil. The friction built, a searing heat that stole your focus, leaving only the insistent pressure and the confusingly exquisite ache.

The relentless thrusts continued, each slick slide a deep invasion that stretched you open, filling you with a heavy, insistent heat. Remmick’s breath hitched in your ear, his hands gripping your hips, guiding the forceful rhythm that echoed in the small space. Your own breaths came in short, uneven gasps, a shaky counterpoint to his deeper exertions.

You squeezed your eyes shut, a futile attempt to block the overwhelming sensations. Your body softened, yielding against your will to the insistent pressure and the unfamiliar ache that bloomed low in your belly. It was a deep, throbbing heat, undeniably physical and increasingly difficult to ignore.

“Easy, darlin’,” Remmick rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Just feel it… let it build.”

His words were a rough whisper against your skin, and his movements shifted, angling his hips to press deeper, catching a sensitive point that sent a sharp, unexpected thrill through you. A small whimper escaped your lips, your back arching slightly against the pleasure.

A wave of pure sensation crashed over you, a blinding, intense release that shuddered through your frame. Your grip on the sheets tightened, your body arching as the pleasure crested, a series of sharp, involuntary contractions seizing you. A ragged gasp escaped your lips, the sound raw and unrestrained as the intense waves of sensation pulsed through you, each one more potent than the last. Your vision swam, the edges blurring as the overwhelming pleasure consumed you. 

He began to move again, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, more urgent. The control he had been exerting shattered, replaced by a raw, driving need. His hips slammed against yours with increasing intensity, each impact a desperate plea for his own release. The sweat slicking his skin made the sounds of your bodies moving together even more pronounced, a wet, frantic rhythm that echoed the escalating tension in the room.

His hands, which had been cradling your face, now gripped your hips with a fierce possessiveness, lifting you slightly with each powerful thrust, driving him deeper and deeper. His head fell forward, his teeth gritted, a low growl rumbling in his chest with each movement.

“Goddamn— sugar, you feel too good…better than the other hundreds of times I've taken you.”

He was chasing the edge, driven by the tight, slick heat of your body around him, the lingering echoes of your own release fueling his urgency. His breath came in sharp, desperate gasps, each exhale a ragged sound of pure physical need.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath coming in shuddering gasps as he emptied himself into you, the powerful pulses of his release echoing the recent intensity of yours. He remained there for a long moment, his body  against yours, his grip on your hips slowly easing as the aftershocks subsided. The only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the faint, wet sounds of your joined bodies.

He stayed pressed against you, his body molded to yours like he couldn't stand the idea of even an inch of distance. His breathing had slowed, but the tension in his arms hadn’t left. One hand remained splayed over your stomach, the other draped heavy over your hip — possessive, unmoving.

Silence filled the room, thick and weighted. Only the faint rustle of the sheets and your uneven breaths disturbed it. Your body ached, spent in a way that ran deeper than physical.

Remmick shifted slightly, his nose brushing your neck, lips parted just enough for you to feel the ghost of his voice as he spoke.

“I could’ve kept going,” he said, voice quiet, but far from gentle. There was hunger beneath it — not lust, not anymore. Something deeper. Something endless. “You know that, don’t you? I could’ve taken you again. And again. You wouldn’t have stopped me.”

He didn’t say it to be cruel. He said it like a promise.

But then he sighed, not out of regret — there was no room for that here — but as if reining himself in. “You’re tired,” he murmured, his hand tracing absently across your stomach, as if to remind himself you were still there, still his. “So rest… for now.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your eyes were open, unfocused on the far wall, heart still racing slow and uneven under your ribs.

And beside you, he lay silent, content — not with the moment, but with the fact that there would be many more.

Because now, he had you.

And he wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever. Not even when centuries passed and the world turned to dust around you.

You were his — bound by blood, by the curse he’d carved into your skin, by the hunger he’d forced into your veins. There was no going back now. No undoing what he’d done. You belonged to him, in life, in death, and everything in between — and he would make damn sure you never forgot it.

[storiesoflilies]

moments in twilight

synopsis: oh, innocent child of blood and bones. you cry as if your heart bleeds fire. has nobody ever taught you to burn them all first? w.c: 13k.

pairing: heianera!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, major character death. mentions of cannibalism, violence, and slight gore. ANGST! sfw, but mdni!

a/n: this was requested by this enthusiastic nonie! i hope you enjoy this and that it’s everything you wanted <3 a massive shout to @spookuna for being my biggest supporter and cheerleader, because i genuinely couldn’t have done this without her!

divider / art / ao3 / @ficsforgaza

the first sight of her fate didn’t seem real, like something out of a dream.

she couldn’t understand what – or who – she was looking at.

perhaps it was a fully materialized specter born somewhere from the deepest recesses of her imagination, unknown even to herself. it certainly seemed that way to her; she was only six and knew nothing of the horrors of the world, except for those that came to life in scary stories.

her ghost was digging feverishly into the earth, its fingers curled like claws, like it was searching for something. it was a dirty, scrawny little thing, wearing no clothes except for a soiled fundoshi that looked as if it was strung together by luck and willpower. every so often, it would pull something stringy and limp into its mouth, devouring it rabidly, though she couldn’t make out what it was.

why would her imagination come up with something so… awful?

it wasn’t a pretty, or kind looking ghost to be sure, and she scratched her arms as an uncomfortable itch settled into her skin.

the specter paused, like a fawn that had been discovered.

and turned.

no… it was a wolf, but it was really just a boy.

a boy that stared at her with a basin full of blood in his eyes. a garden that should have been filled with a gorgeous array of ruby roses, was instead full of violence and malice, of death and root rot. this was not a normal, or happy, sort of boy like the boisterous ones in her village.

she still thought she was dreaming, still believed the boy was just a ghost.

because what else could he be? real boys didn’t have a second pair of small eyes beneath their normal ones. even if his were closed, his two pale lids shut tightly like an oyster.

would there be precious little red, red, red pearls underneath them?

a gentle gust of wind swept through the trees, ruffling the boys matted locks of hair, and he vanished from her sight like a puff of dust.

surely now it was a dream.

real boys couldn’t just disappear.

until she felt all the air knocked out from her lungs as she crashed backwards into the earth, sharp fingernails digging into the soft skin of her forearms, and the boy’s crimson eyes were consuming her in his fire.

she knew then it wasn’t a dream, because dreams couldn’t hurt her like this.

she kicked and struggled, her ears ringing from the force of her head knocking into the ground, screaming until one of his dirty hands covered her mouth. she stilled immediately, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, and sliding down the apples of her cheeks.

“you can’t steal,” the boy hissed, his voice sharp and pointed like nails, and he shook her roughly as he repeated like a mantra. “can’t steal, can’t steal.”

she whimpered and nodded frantically, as sharp stones from the earth pierced her skin, adding to her misery. the boy licked his lips, a snake tasting the air with its forked tongue, and bent down closer to her ear.

“i’m hungry” he whispered, a dusting of glee coating his words like powdery snow. “i want to eat you.”

the sky was haunted with the last light of the sunset, like the cries of a mourning mother, swirling with hues of orange and purple. she wondered if she was going to become a ghost that could only existed in her own mother’s dreams.

for the first time in her meager existence, she felt her childish immortality slipping between her tiny fingers.

something uncomfortably hot and wet spread out from beneath her thighs.

the boy sniffed once, twice, with his nose upturned.

then he cried out angrily, his red eyes flashing in the twilight hour, and shoved her roughly into the ground before releasing his grip on her, recoiling defensively infront of his hole of dirt. she scrambled up ungracefully to her feet, her chest heaving, wincing as she tasted bitter soil and salty tears on her tongue.

“yucky! dirty, dirty!” the boy spat indignantly, hypocritically, as if he wasn’t more soiled than she was.

he was rolling in the dirt now, rubbing his face and body with it as if it were soap, as if the coarse earth could wash her touch away from him. she took two steps backwards from him, feeling an eerie charge of energy settling into the edge of the forest.

like the spark of a flame that could ignite into a wildfire.

she took another slow step back.

and then another.

and another.

until she turned and fled, like a squawking bird escaping the grasp of a hawk, her short legs crying out as she sprinted faster than she ever had in her life. she ran all the way from the edge of the forest, up the slight incline of the main pathway through her village, and finally crashed through the doorway of her home, startling her mother who was scrubbing away at dirtied clothes in a bucketful of soapy water.

her mother gasped loudly, alarm rising like a looming mountain, always there and ever present. “whatever happened to you? you’re all scratched.”

lie.

she wailed loudly, messy snot dribbling down her nose and chin and right onto her mother’s worn, muted robes. her mother shushed her gently, bundling her child into her arms and pressing comforting kisses to her forehead.

“what happened, my dearest love?” her mother repeated, whispering softly and soothingly.

lie.

she somehow knew that if she told the truth, it would only invite chaos and misery into her home.

“i p-played in the forest a-and falled,” she finally hiccuped, her bottom lip pouting and wobbling.

her mother cooed, wiping away her tears with a warm, rough thumb. “you fell? my sweet, you’ll be alright. oh, oh. why have you wet yourself?”

more mucus ran down from her nose, and she wiped it messily with her palm as she shrugged her shoulders and said nothing. she let her mother fuss over her, completely unresponsive as she dunked her tiny body into a wooden bucket, washing away the touch of the wolfish, snake boy.

until all that remained of him were the little scratches dotting her arms – rough and ridged, lines carved into the trunks of trees.

she thought of him all through the night, even when her mother had tucked her into bed and tenderly kissed her brow. everything was unknown to her now, nothing was certain. was he actually like an animal, capable of following her scent and finding her here?

would he gorge on her until all that was left of her was red, red, red?

༺ ✤ ༻

the boy had taken over her life – he was everywhere, in everything.

haunting her.

taunting her.

filling her mind with paranoia and warped visions of his red eyes staring at her, always. she saw him in between the boards of the walls and floor, and in every bite of food she took. the wispy tendrils of his hands possessed hers, eating right alongside her. he was in the blood of her scrapes, which always seemed to reopen whenever she bathed, and in her tears as she whimpered quietly, unable to sleep as she hid beneath her blanket.

as if that could save her from him.

it was in the boy’s nature to haunt her with his hunt, to frighten and consume her every thought.

she couldn’t expect anything less than that; it was who he was.

she’d seen it in his eyes, a peephole into the true nature of his soul, and it was full of violence and cruelty and…

sadness.

… and beauty.

he was really just a sad, beautiful little boy.

a boy just as old as she was. a boy who had somehow been put on a path of loneliness, without light, kindness, or love.

it had to be some sort of twisted fascination she harbored for the boy, the same way she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blood trickling from his scratches, or stop listening to the stories of ghosts and monsters in the night.

maybe it was his strange power that was possessing her, gripping her like quicksand and sucking her further and further down into his madness.

yes, that had to be it.

because why else would she be heading straight towards the edge of the forest, to him?

she tightly grasped a small bowl of rice and vegetables between her little hands, swiped from her own dinner right beneath her mother’s nose. it had long since cold, and she hoped the ghost wouldn’t mind. it was an offering, a desperate plea to break free from his curse that haunted her.

snap!

snap! crackle, snap!

a few twigs snapped loudly beneath her feet – a damning announcement.

she froze, nearly dropping her bowl, breathing quick and shallow puffs of air.

snap!

another one, this time from behind her.

she whirled around, and there he was.

the boy stood beside a thick tree trunk, his head cocked to the side and his eyes widened into full crimson moons. he was even more disheveled than he was a week ago, with mud caked to his skin and hair like dried, flaky clay. his ribs were more prominent too, scarily so, and his cheeks were gaunt like a skeletons.

he was weak.

far too weak, she realized.

she immediately extended her arms out, the bowl teetering on the edge of her fingertips, and breathlessly said, “yours.”

the boy grunted, “huh?”

snap! snap! crackle!

he’d taken a few steps forward, carefully, ever so fearfully.

she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head up towards the twilight sky, her heart beating against her ribcage as if trying to escape, and tried more clearly, “food, for you.”

he was in front of her in a flash, his breath brushing over her cheeks. she cracked open an eye to peek at him, watching as he eyed the bowl with suspicion, sniffing loudly. he gagged offensively when his nose wandered too close to a vegetable, his tongue stretching far out from his mouth.

she half thought he was going to smack the bowl to the ground and lunge for her instead.

he’s going to eat me.

until he snatched it from her instead, retreating back behind the tree trunk.

she blinked, her lashes butterfly wings fluttering in a breeze.

there were the sounds of scoffing, rabid breathing and snuffling noises, and then nothing at all.

hiccup!

had he finished all of it already?

the boy’s face peeked out from behind the trunk, peering at her owlishly.

“why you back?” he asked simply, a touch of softness in his voice, the edge of a knife chipped and dulled.

she shrugged her shoulders. “you’re hungry.”

“but, what if i eat you?”

“tomorrow i’ll give you more, then you can’t eat me.”

he fully revealed himself, crouched low to the earth like a cat, staring up at her with his pupils blown. “you promise?”

she gulped. “i promise.”

“if you don’t, then i eat you!” he exclaimed, lips pulled back over his fangs in a threatening snarl, his hackles raised and shaking.

oddly, she didn’t feel afraid.

the ghost didn’t have the same malice as before; she could see his vulnerability in the way his fingers trembled. she felt it travel through the mountain air, settling onto her skin like a layer of dust. it wriggled like maggots, burrowing into her flesh and making her skin crawl.

her chest constricted painfully.

she felt so unbelievably and overwhelmingly sorry for him.

the boy scrunched his nose. “why’r you sad?”

“i’m not!” she replied quickly, a touch indignantly. she knew he would probably get angry if he knew how much she pitied him.

it was silent for quite some time as he stared at her, and she fidgeted in her spot. she knew she had to let him do this, to stay perfectly still like a rabbit in the reeds, as the wolf made its mind up whether it was hungry or not.

it seemed to work.

the boy huffed and collapsed to the ground in an ungraceful heap, his legs splayed out before him as he seemingly ignored her – a begrudging acceptance of her existing in his space.

she lowered herself to his level, the ground scraping beneath her legs, while maintaining that somewhat safe distance between them. her hands began to search for and pick up various rocks and twigs to play with, because she didn’t know what else to do to pass the time. the boy had his head held to the side, a shade of confusion painted over his cheeks as he clocked onto her every move.

she pretended he wasn’t there, ignoring the rising wave of bitter panic in her throat, and the fact that he was slowly inching closer to her, crawling to her like a prowling panther.

he sat beside her now, clearly observing how she sat with her legs crossed, then glanced towards his own legs kneeling into the dirt. she never stopped playing, pretending to be in her own world, watching from the corner of her eyes as the boy moved his body to mimic her posture and sitting position.

a giggle threatened to bubble out from between her lips.

the boy picked up a twig from her small pile, then retracted, looking at her with wonderful apprehension.

she gave him her full attention. “you can play too.”

another head tilt, and his pink lips curved downwards.

“…play?”

oh.

“have you never played before?”

“no, show me.”

and she did, without knowing how to really explain it. she told stories of how the twigs could be birds soaring between the gaps in the clouds, or the rocks could be fish darting in between the strands of a kelp forest. all the while, the boy was transfixed, and she began to really understand him for what he truly was.

scared and lonely, with an insatiable curiosity for new things – especially for her.

she only hoped she could live up to it.

༺ ✤ ༻

she discovered the boy’s name a fortnight later.

ryomen sukuna.

a strange sensation ran down her spine when she heard it for the first time, like a delicate lash from a whip made of fire.

she decided to ignore it.

they played together everyday since then, against the deep backdrop of the forest, and always during the duskiness of twilight. she would still sneak him scraps of whatever food she could spare, feeling guilty as her mother, who was none the wiser, always praised her for finishing her meals. her father would raise a questioning brow at her whenever she asked to play so late in the day, chiding her for being reckless, even if she passionately justified – albeit, borderline erraticly – that her imaginary friend would be very lonely without her.

“but why now? why can’t you play during the day with your… friend?”

“because he only comes out when the sun goes down.”

maybe sukuna really was a ghost.

she liked to hold onto that superstition. it made her lies a little less white, because he definitely wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

but it was still a lie, a pearlescent river of alabaster, and it had continued to flow strong for three years now.

she was nine years old, and during their time together, sukuna had only revealed glimpses of himself in little tidbits. it was like a sweet bite of plum on a hot summer’s day, satiating her for a time, but always leaving her hungry for more.

“where do you sleep?”

“i dig a big hole, you wanna see?”

“why do you only come after the sun?”

“i’m here all the time, you just don’t see me.”

but sometimes.

just sometimes, and only if she timed her questions right.

then sukuna would indulge her in just a little more.

“why are your eyes red?”

ryomen paused, a wickedly sharpened two-pronged stick in his hand, and shrugged nonchalantly. “i was hungry in my mother’s tummy, so i ate my brother.”

(there was a great clap of thunder somewhere far away, and the great sinful cut of the world bled just a little more.)

they were quiet for a long time after that.

he’d resumed stabbing the earth with his wooden weapon, completely unperturbed.

as if what he’d said was the most normal thing, like it was as easy as drinking the rain that fell from the pine leaves.

sukuna often said twisted things – things that reminded her of who she was really dealing with. although he had somewhat softened around her, he was still as wild and unforgiving as the mountainside he lived on.

she could never ever show him that it put her on edge.

still, much to her own shock, she was growing used to the depravity.

not that sukuna was always wicked, no. he would always ask her things, and she’d try to assume an air like her mother, knowledgeable and benevolent, as she guided him. when he wanted to know how she ate without using her hands, she took a pair of chopsticks from her kitchen and showed him how to use them. he’d sniff her hair, alarmingly too close, and asked how it was so much softer than his.

so one evening, she took him to the river where some of the villagers bathed during the day, and taught him how to wash himself.

“show me,” he’d ordered, his characteristic head tilt an open book of confusion.

he was more perplexed when she became flustered and refused to do it.

the ensuing conversation, in which she explained why she couldn’t just do that, was extremely awkward to say the least.

but she was even more surprised the next day when she came to play, and he was awkwardly standing there, his cheeks as pink as the once-hidden peaches in his hair. she’d stopped straight in her tracks, almost not recognizing her ghost without all the grime and dirt covering him.

he’s so beautiful…

ryomen blinked slowly, catlike, staring at his unusually clean feet with something akin to bashfulness. “what?”

“nothing,” she smiled, gentle like the summer rain that had just started to fall. “let’s play.”

༺ ✤ ༻

it was autumn now.

the leaves of the maple trees had turned into molten gold and burnt orange peels, and the remaining blooms had already died out petal by petal. there was a chill bite in the air, a promise of snow and piercing cold to come. she hated when the weather was like this, she worried about sukuna living in the wild in such conditions, and it only made it harder to go out and play with him in the evenings.

he, however, enjoyed it whenever the weather turned cold – it soothed the fire in his blood.

or so he said.

sukuna was lying down beside her, saccharine on the grass whilst looking up at the sky. he was wearing some washed-out linen clothes, a size too big, that she had managed to steal one day from the village boys bathing in the river. the deep plum wine in the skies mixed with the blood in his eyes – all four of them – the two colors swirling and teasingly touching each other.

two nights ago, the wind had been howling like wolves, screaming of murder and spilled blood in the darkness. there had been a strange heaviness in the air, a sort of static, like lighting biding its time to strike.

when she saw sukuna the next morning, he had a proud grin on his face, his teeth and mouth speckled with blood. all his eyes were wide open, staring at her as if to say ‘look at us, look at us!’

she knew that he had committed some sort of depravity in the night to have earned the transformation.

but he never told her.

perhaps she was never meant to know.

they were always alert, darting between everything and anything that moved even in the slightest – from the leaves rustling high up a tree, to the birds soaring high up in the sky, and to the blades of grass tickled by the wind.

and her.

one always rested on her.

“ryo,” she started, ripping fistfuls of grass. “do you like to play in the snow?”

the eye fixed on her rolled in annoyance. “no, and stop calling me that,” he huffed.

she rolled her eyes, blowing a hot-pink raspberry at him. “yes you do, liar! i know you do.”

she knew that sukuna loved to be teased, but only when he was carefree and relaxed. during moments like now, with the ghost of the permanent scowl sewn into his features unraveled into wispy threads of gold. he was seriously mulling over what she had just said, something she knew he also enjoyed – untangling mysteries and puzzles in his mind, a satisfied gleam in his eyes when he finally figured them out.

“i don’t… like anything.”

she stilled.

a blade of grass fell from her grip, and she gnawed on her bottom lip.

why did she feel so embarrassed?

he wasn’t really referring to her at all – and yet, it all felt so personal.

“okay,” was all she could muster weakly, barely a whisper, resuming her onslaught on the grass like nothing mattered at all.

maybe none of it ever did.

sukuna turned his head and stared at her strangely, but said nothing.

thwack!

he was grinning wildly now. “let me chase you.”

she wiped away the raindrops that had splattered onto her cheek, a slight sting on her thigh from his smack. “i don’t wanna play.”

“but… you like this game,” sukuna frowned, head tilted, rolling over with his elbows digging into the grass. “why not?”

“i jus-ow! stop hitting me!”

“start running then.”

so she did, quite begrudgingly.

her footsteps crackled loudly against the forest floor, as the dark grey clouds darkened even more and the rain fell faster, and the sun dipped further behind a neighboring mountain. sukuna was hot on her trail, and she knew how easily he could catch up to her in an instant, but he never did. it was as if he switched off whatever made him less human during their games. maybe it was to give her a fighting chance, or perhaps it was entertaining to him to know he could always win whenever he wanted to.

if she got to the village fast enough, she would win today.

she swung herself against a tree trunk to propel herself forward, imagining she was an agile deer leaping between the trees.

get to the village.

win.

run, you can wi-

her leg gave way beneath her, sliding up in an arc as she slipped backward. her head hit the ground, and stars and minuscule black moons danced in her eyes amidst the silver clouds.

sukuna appeared above her, his face upside down, all of his eyes on her with what looked something like panic in his irises. it made her heart skip a beat, followed by a swarming terror of bats and a throbbing swell of pain in her left ankle.

and then… sheer, crippling embarrassment.

she started to wail loudly.

big salty droplets squeezed out from her tearducts, running to her temples and mixing with the rain in the dirt. sukuna's face contorted painfully, his mouth pulled into a grimace, his eyes darting over her like a hummingbird flitting between flowers.

"s-stop doing that," he tried to order harshly, but was cruelly betrayed by the shaky wobbling his lip.

snot messily dribbled down her nose as her ankle started to throb more intensely. "it h-hurts!"

"stop crying!" sukuna exclaimed, his fists clenched and shaking. "just stop."

she made the mistake of moving her leg, and cried out as fiery pain licked a smoldering trail straight up to her head. "ryo! please. make it stop, make it stop, make it stop."

his face fell, crumbling into pieces. with a tenderness she had never known, and the sleeves of his shirt falling over his hands, sukuna gently held the sides of her face.

she stilled, a drop of crystal suspended in time.

he hushed her, soothingly. "it's okay. just... please. stop crying."

she sniffled, broken sobs stuttering out from her lips, until they fizzed out altogether. all the while, sukuna never let her go, their foreheads brushing against each other, his peach frizz blowing in the wind. oh, how she wished she could see his face. she wanted to know that he wasn't faking this level of care – of emotion – if nothing really mattered to him.

sukuna lifted his head, his blood eyes glossy and pained, and whispered, "does it still hurt?"

her bottom lip trembled dangerously and she nodded. sukuna sighed, his hands leaving her face and scrunching his hair.

"i-," he paused, nervous. "let me try something."

sukuna looked at her expectantly, eyes widened and pleading. she nodded again, not sure exactly what she was agreeing to, he moved slowly, cautiously, as if any sudden move would set off her pain again. all the while, his gaze was trained on her, settled and pooling on her already swelling ankle.

he breathed out shakily, placing a rough palm over her warm skin, and she whimpered as a piping hot sensation seeped through to her bone. it was nothing like pain, but it felt like sukuna. it was a strange feeling, like little bubbles popping on the skin he touched. she knew then what she was feeling – his power. sukuna was concentrating hard, little grunts escaping his lips every so often, his brow deeply furrowed into a valley of ridges.

the power rose, a tidal wave of fire and blood, and then collapsed into nothing.

he hissed in frustration, sharply pulling his hand back from her ankle, head bowed almost… shamefully.

it was quiet for a heartbeat longer before sukuna muttered, “i’m sorry, i can’t fix you. i’m not strong enough.”

her heart swelled, and she smiled weakly. “it’s okay, ryo.”

he looked up at the dark sky, mouth opening and closing as he chased his words and settled on, “its going to be night soon.”

she looked up too, watching the veil of the silver crescent moon lifting. “mhm.”

she sat up slowly, sukuna immediately turning to watch her. “i-i don’t think i can walk, ryo,” she mumbled. “how can i get home?”

“but… you can’t stay here.”

“i know.”

“the bears will hunt you.”

“ryo, i know!”

his head tilted and a spark lit in his eyes.

“i can carry you!” sukuna blurted out, his chest puffed out proudly. “i’ll bring you to where i sleep. it’s warm there, and then the bears can’t eat you because i’ll be there.”

“… you can fight a bear?”

“what do you think i eat now? i told you I didn’t need your stinky vegetables anymore!”

she blinked three times.

“okay, and then what?”

“and then… i can figure it out in the morning. i’ll keep trying to make you better when you sleep so you can go home.”

without hearing another word from her, sukuna swept her into his arms, eliciting a startled yelp from her. he settled into a brisk pace, taking them both much farther away from the village. the light darkened considerably this deep into the forest, the trees hugging each other so tightly that hardly any of the sun’s waning light could pierce between the leaves.

suddenly, he stopped.

sukuna hunched over, her cheek squishing against his chest, and gently placed her down into a cavernous burrow.

"you really weren't joking when you said you sleep in a hole," she half-heartedly joked, looking around.

he scoffed, crossing his legs and sitting beside her injured side, halfway turned towards the entrance to the burrow. "you don't like it?"

"i never said that! it's just... different."

"not all of us live in a nice home."

the air turned slightly sour, lemons tainting his softness, and they were completely silent. the sounds of the night became louder then; strange animal cries off in the distance, and the rain pelting down from outside, steady drip drip drip of droplets falling from the entrance. sukuna was right, his burrow was reasonably warm. almost, dare she say it, actually comfortable.

he was still beside her, a hand pressed lightly to her injury, his power ebbing and rushing forward like a wave against the shore. as the night grew longer, sukuna seemed to be getting more and more agitated, hissing lowly as he failed at every attempt to heal her. she couldn't sleep regardless of his noises; the enormity of the situation she was in was too jarring. what if a bear discovered their sanctuary? what would her parents be thinking right now? sukuna had to be hungry, as well tired from expending his power. could he really fight a bear if it came down to it?

"ryo?"

"go to sleep."

"but i-"

"shut up, or i'll let the bears eat you."

"ryo! i just wanted to ask you something."

he groaned in annoyance. "what then?"

"earlier, when you said you didn't like anything. did you mean it?"

"well... yes. i don't lie."

"oh, yeah. i know."

sukuna tilted his head, both left eyes rolling towards her. "why did you get sad when i said that?"

heat rose to her cheeks. "did not!"

"you did so! i felt you get sad! you’re getting sad again now"

she fidgeted uncomfortably. "because!"

"because?"

"because, because- ugh! because then that means you don't like me, okay? and that hurts my feelings.”

red eyes flashed in the dark. “why do you care if i like you?”

“because we’re-you… you’re my friend. of course i care if you like me.”

“but, what if i don’t care?”

her heart dropped, and a fresh tear prickled the corner of her eye. “you don’t?” she mumbled quietly, a drop in an ocean of naive, childish feelings.

sukuna’s face crumbled again, and he gripped her ankle just a fraction tighter. “no! i mean, yes! i do care.”

he bashfully looked away, mumbling under his breath before he said a bit louder, “i like you.”

she perked right up at that. “you do?”

“mhm.”

“you promise?”

a low grumble. “promise.”

༺ ✤ ༻

for five days and five nights, she was in another world.

a world where all the memories of her past were washed away by the swirling green of the deep forest. it was an almost cathartic experience, a transition from one plane of existence to the next – one drawn in dripping red ink, a solitary existence that belonged only to ryomen sukuna.

or, at least, it was easier to imagine it that way.

otherwise, the painful pangs of guilt would strike her violently whenever her thoughts strayed to her village and family. if she paused and closed her eyes, she could feel the steady thrum of her mother’s grief, like an earthquake reverberating across the distance between them. it was all too much for her young mind to bear.

and so, she willingly slipped through the doorway into a new reality, where it was just her and her crimson ghost.

during that time, she had learned how to read him.

his anger was a lashing snake hidden between the rocks – wickedly sharp and quick to strike her with venomous words. they would spread quickly though her blood, making her huddle into herself, perfectly still, like a mouse meeting its most unfortunate end.

fortunately for her, she was only bitten once, and the snake had only acted out of hunger, not genuine malice.

if sukuna’s anger had been real, she doubted she would have lived to see the next sunrise.

his apology came much later after he had returned from the hunt, a satiated tiger slow to act. the only acknowledgement of his remorse was a silent head pat with a bloody palm.

his fear was iron claws scratching against a rock, piercingly grating and scraping at the walls of her heart. if sukuna was fearful, she knew it by the way he stalked and paced outside the burrow, a whip strike away from pouncing on anything that moved even slightly out of the ordinary.

“there are more people in the forest,” sukuna would mutter darkly during those fearful fits. “they're shouting your name.”

“did they see you?”

he responded with nothing more than a pointed look.

but above all, it was his kindness that was most present.

she first noticed it in the way sukuna corrected himself around her, protecting her from certain aspects of his lifestyle. for instance, when she saw the blood on his hands after a kill, or saw how horrified she was when he offered her raw, dripping meat from a deer he had just killed. it was in the way he had immediately changed his ways – washing his hands after a hunt, and skinning and butchering his kills far from the burrow so she wouldn’t see a thing.

it was also in the way he pretended he wasn’t purposely foraging berries for her, dropping them onto her lap like he had just randomly stumbled across them. it was in his stubborn refusal to give up on healing her every night when he thought she was asleep, and in how he treated her like precious sugar glass – so very careful in how he handled her.

it shouldn’t have been so surprising to discover that ryomen sukuna was neither cruel nor mad.

he was still that lonely boy from all those years ago, still learning how to be kind while yearning and searching for love.

one day, she saw him play with fire between his fingertips as if it were nothing extraordinary.

she saw how the blood in his eyes came alive, like dancing waves of a turbulent red sea. when he looked at her, she didn't expect him to smile so gently as he started a small fire and cooked her meat for her.

after sukuna had shown her more of his power, the cracks in his soul seemed to split apart, and his fire teemed and spilled out uncontrollably. he finally began to open up to her, telling her things she had always wanted to discover, along refreshingly childish ramblings.

“you know, i actually didn’t mind eating your stinky vegetables. yeah.”

“deer aren’t actually that pretty, but watching them when they’re still is… relaxing?”

“yeah, i lied before. i do like playing in the snow, especially throwing it at you.”

but some of the worst things would also spill out – things she would have preferred to never know, because they were dark and cruel enough to change the way she viewed the world.

“i didn’t mean to eat my brother, but i was just really hungry in my mother’s tummy, and she wasn’t feeding us.”

“she called me a demon for what i did.”

“no, i don’t know know where she is now, and i don’t know about my father too.”

“i do… feel a bit bad about eating my brother, because he was hurting.”

there was a stretched, almost foreboding silence before sukuna finally asked the question that must have been on his mind since the day they met.

“are you afraid of me?”

the fire spit and fizzled, and she hissed as a spark danced dangerously close to her skin.

“no, ryo. you’re my best friend.”

“really?!”

“well, duh. you saved me.”

he shuffled ever so slightly closer, their arms just about to touch, and mumbled, “so did you.”

she really believed she could have stayed with sukuna forever.

but her new world was shattered on the morning of the sixth day, as if the cosmic rulings of the world had decreed that they'd both had enough of a good thing.

still, it was all her fault – it had to be.

she was the one who insisted that she was too cold, that the chill in the air was day beyond what she could tolerate. she felt the wet tears clinging to her lashes were about to freeze over, and sukuna could not stand to see her cry. so, despite his own warnings, he lit her a fire for her during the day and watched nervously as the smoke rose high above the trees.

it wasn't long before the hunters came.

they came silently, prowling and closing in on them both.

and sukuna knew it.

he was bristling defensively, his neck hairs rising, eyes closed, and head bowed in the direction of a bush that had rustled unnaturally. the hunters crept forward cautiously, eyeing the boy with barely concealed suspicion, while beckoning for her to come with them.

she stayed put, pretending she was a statue of ice that couldn’t understand a thing.

a hunter tightened his grip on his bow.

another nocked an arrow.

and sukuna opened his eyes.

chaos erupted, a whirlwind of metal and feathers and red, red, red.

the hunters charged forward, consumed by a fear they could not rationally explain – of demons and monsters possessing their hearts and minds. but sukuna was faster than all of them, disappearing in a flash, and reappearing to hurl a hunter against a tree.

the poor souls had no clue what they were up against.

she knew sukuna could – and would – kill them all.

"no! no! no!" she screamed, heaving and desperately clawing at her face. “please.”

somehow, he could understand her amidst the shouts and cries of anguish from the men who had come for her.

(he always did, he always would.)

the boy of blood and fire stilled, dropping his hands to his sides, and the wolves descended upon him instantly.

she screamed once more as a hunter seized her, dragging her away from the fray of madness. all the while, sukuna remained curled in a fetal position, all of his eyes locked on her retreating figure as he endured the the blows to his body with stoic silence.

only his eyes betrayed his pain.

༺ ✤ ༻

her heart was weak.

it could only beat with half its strength, as if it couldn’t be bothered to do what was expected of it.

when she was returned to the village, to the nearly suffocating embrace of her weeping mother, she was hailed as a miracle – a little girl who had somehow survived a demon. she was cherished and fussed over by the whole village, her family showered with gifts of millet and rice, plenty of dried boar to survive the winter, and stone amulets for protection against the evil that had touched them.

meanwhile, sukuna had escaped.

the hunters had said the demon vanished into the highest peaks of the mountains, where they could not follow. they bowed low and deep to her mother, their knees buckling as they vowed vengeance on the scourge of the mountain. but she knew it was all for show. they were completely terrified of him, too proud to admit it, and so the mere memory of sukuna was spat on and desecrated by the other villagers.

oh, if only they knew the truth of it all.

it took a fortnight for her heartstrings to stop aching from the pain of being ripped apart from sukuna, and even longer for her piercing wails to cease every night before she slept. her tears burned, tears of fire and salt, made from sukuna's precious blood that had dripped down his face as he was beaten.

all because of her.

her parents couldn't fathom her sheer anguish, perplexed and frightened by its intensity, and only able to explain it as the effect of a demon. all they could do was pray for her recovery, and the rest of the village did the same.

in the beginning, when she had exhausted all her energy from wailing and crying, she would peer into the darkness of the room. through the gaps in the walls of her home, she willed and prayed so fervently that she would one day see four red orbs peering back at her.

but twelve winters and summers came and went without sukuna, and she began to wonder if had all been just a dream. an elaborate tale of an imaginary friend her mind had tricked her into believing was real. a ghost that was never meant to be, one she ought to bury in the deepest recesses of her memories where he could finally rest.

but, oh, how lifeless her world was without him.

nobody could understand or see how the anguish swirled beneath her skin. she didn’t even have the words to describe it to herself anymore, other than she was not doing well at all and felt sick all the time.

how very isolating it all was.

she was fifteen now, and all her parents could talk to her about was marriage.

“you are a young lady now!” her mother would gush loudly, almost nagging. “one who survived a demon, and every man who passes through the village wants your hand.”

she tried not to think about it at all, but it loomed larger and larger over her head as the years passed, and she doubted she could remain as she was for much longer. in those moments, her thoughts would always stray to sukuna, and how if she could have married anybody, then it would have been him.

it was the only thing that felt right.

she tried not to dwell on that for too long.

but trying not thinking about ryomen sukuna was like telling the sky not to cry.

there were often tales from afar that the traveling merchants told the villagers as they stopped for respite and to sell their crafts – stories full of horrors and atrocities. entire villages, along with all their inhabitants, were found burnt to cinders or encased in a tomb of ice, with no rhyme or reason why, simply there one minute and gone the next. there were accounts of cries and calls from strange creatures in the night, born from suffering and pain. some spoke of certain people being able to wield magic, only to be found mangled and nearly destroyed by others of the same power.

she would think of sukuna after hearing those stories and wonder what kind of life he was living.

was he just as lonely as she was?

or was he happy indulging in the violence of his nature?

then, one fateful day, her father placed a hand on her head fondly and said, “tonight is your omiai, dearest. you will finally meet the man the nakodo has chosen as your husband.”

and that was that.

that night, she stared into the eyes of the man she was to marry.

they were kind, warm – so very plain. he spoke a little to her, mainly about how he could offer her a better life than what she had now. something more comfortable, with a better house, more food, and even kimonos made of silk.

it all sounded… safe.

reliable.

her family was happy she was marrying such a man, and assured her that they would come and visit her in her new home once she had settled in.

she didn’t care about that at all.

all she could think about was red, red, red, and how it felt like the ultimate betrayal.

she could do nothing but nod placidly at them all.

really, she should count her blessings that she was about the same age as her soon-to-be husband, and that he seemed likely to treat her with kindness and respect. maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could convince herself that she would find some measure of fulfillment in her marriage.

she could learn to accept it all, even force herself to be happy.

even if a part of her could never be scrubbed clean from all the red.

the day before she left for her betrothed’s village, she went to the clearing in the forest where it all began. it was midday, the sun high in the air, and the sweet bite of winter kissed her cheeks as she stood there clutching the white silks that had been gifted to her.

“things are going to change for me,” she whispered to the trees that had long watched over her and sukuna, her head bowed low. "and i do not believe i will ever return here.”

desperation gripped her in a suffocating hold, hooking its claws deep into her spine. she wondered if there was a string that connected her to sukuna. a red-stained one, dripping in their blood. would he feel it wherever he was in the world if she pulled it hard enough?

if she tried, would he come for her?

(a gust of wind, a spark of flame, and a ripple of blood.)

she had realized some time ago what she had felt as a child.

but it was still a terrifying thing to admit to herself, even now, in this quiet corner of the world, that she had once been in love with ryomen sukuna.

it was best to bury it here with the trees.

tonight was the eve of her wedding, and all she wanted was to have just stayed there.

it was supposed to have been a night of solitary peace.

the last one she would ever have, with only the sound of the herbal bathwater rippling and the scent of yuzu in the air to keep her tethered to this world.

it had all been overturned in an instant.

the monsters came swiftly down from the mountainside in the night, slaughtering and tearing their way through every home in the village. the night was full of brutal screams, blood moons and snow falling from the weeping clouds. she could see them, but others weren’t so lucky. that brief look of terrified confusion was haunting – blood bubbling from their mouths as their throats were slashed by something they couldn’t see.

she stared at her fiancé, both of them trapped beneath a wooden beam, as his eyes, wide and lifeless, had not a single trace of the kindness they had once held. death had never been so close to her before, she could almost feel the cold kiss of its blade against her throat, beckoning her closer to the other side.

their assailant was a thin creature, broken and bent, with a feminine form. it licked the dripping blood of her betrothed from its wickedly sharp claws, unperturbed to the rest of the carnage unfolding around it.

“i miss you, i miss you,” it hissed in a low, screeching voice. “i love you, i miss you.”

the demon turned to her, eyeless, with only a mouth full of teeth and a thousand tongues, as if it could smell the life and heat fading from her blood. it crawled sideways towards her, its scraggly black hair brushing the ground in front of her face.

it paused, dipping its face down towards her, its reeking, snarling breaths close to her ear.

she screamed weakly as it sank its teeth into her shoulder.

soon, all our ghosts will dance together.

pale pink rose petals fluttered from the sky, falling along with the snow.

how beautiful is death?

“hmph, idiot.”

a flash of a thousand blades, and the world turned red and then black.

༺ ✤ ༻

it was the smell of incense that coaxed her back from the dreams of death.

honeyed rays of light danced behind her closed eyelids, their warmth caressing her brow and lips in golden life. when her eyes finally opened, she was convinced that she must have already been reborn. her body was wrapped in opulent silk sheets, delicately embroidered with intricate gold and silver flowers. a byobu depicting a blooming cherry blossom tree stood a few paces in front of the bed.

this was a bedroom of royalty, dripping with extravagance.

she felt as if she didn’t belong here.

but when she pinched the skin of her forearm, felt her legs moving and toes wriggling, and heard the sheets rustling loudly, she knew that this was all very real. all the blood that had been spilled was real, the kind man who would have given her a good life was truly dead, along with his entire village.

“you're awake then are you?”

she froze.

that voice.

it can't be.

so intimately familiar, yet it belonged to the strangest of strangers – deep as the oceans she had never seen, mysterious and smoky like the swirls of incense wafting through the room.

this was the voice of death.

she felt like she had heard it before, as if she should know who it belonged to.

because it was too beautiful to forget.

“sukuna?” she called out in disbelief, her voice fragile and trembling like leaves.

a low chuckle followed. “you still know me.”

oh my.

“h-how are you here? where have you – but y-you disappeared.”

the outline of shadow loomed large behind the byobu, and she gulped.

“i’ve been everywhere in this country. there’s nowhere i haven’t seen.”

it’s him, it’s really him.

sukuna hummed again, his figure swaying. she could make out the shadow of the bridge of his nose and his lips, as well as the elaborate layers of clothing he wore.

“do you remember what happened?” he finally asked after a prolonged silence.

she clenched her fists tightly. “yes.”

“good. and before you accuse me of it, i had nothing to do with what happened to you.”

“i-i wasn't going to.”

“how quaint. it’s rare that i’m not accused of causing wanton violence.”

she watched his shadow reach over and pour a liquid into a cup, followed by soft sipping noises as he drank from it.

“those... those things,” she began tepidly. “is that what you are?”

sukuna snorted. “no. i'm nothing like those low-grade cretins.” he sipped from his cup again. “although, it’s good that you can see curses. next time, you should run instead of just stand there.”

she was starting to remember him again.

she knew that he was nervous; it was evident in his sharp jibes toward her. sukuna always acted like this in unfamiliar situations, when he was unsure of how to act around her. so he would poke and prod because, at least, he understood pain and anger.

she chose to ignore it.

“i went back to the village,” he said, clearing his throat. “it hasn't changed much.”

a flash of terror struck her like lightning.

“but imagine my surprise when i discovered that something had actually changed,” sukuna’s voice had taken on a goading tone, and she could tell he wasn't pleased in the slightest. “you had left to go and get married, of all things.”

my family.

he scoffed, as if he sensed her shift in emotions. “oh, don't worry. your parents told me quite willingly. they were smart enough to know they couldn’t keep me from you.”

a trail of ice and fire ran down her spine.

oh, how much more dangerous have you really become, ryomen sukuna?

dread settled onto her bones like melted lead, and despite her better judgement, she sputtered out, "why now, after all this time?"

silence.

maybe he didn’t even know why.

sukuna's silhouette swayed back and forth behind the byobu, like beech trees high up the mountains, struggling to stay upright during a blizzard. like them, he was battling, but always against himself. his perpetual internal war against that small part inside of him that was human; full of his pain, fear, and kindness. sukuna’s cup was overflowing, even if he didn’t realize it, spilling and pouring everywhere – but she knew it.

she’d known it for the longest time.

“ryo,” her voice cracked like splintering glass. “answer me.”

he sighed, exasperated, “its been so long” – a sharp exhale – “but i can’t stop bleeding!”

utterly perplexed, she frowned. “bleeding? wha-”

sukuna’s shadow rose like a bonfire, erratically pacing in front of the byobu, and she could have sworn she saw the dancing shadows of four swaying arms.

he snarled, the words wrenched from between his fangs, "they tore you from me, and it made my heart bleed. it hasn’t stopped bleeding, because of you."

bang!

his heavy fist struck the screen, and she flinched frightfully.

“i-i don’t k-know what you mean,” she stuttered fearfully, her breaths coming out in rapid, little puffs. “i don’t understand what’s going on.”

he groaned, collected himself, and rolled his shoulders back purposefully. when he spoke again, his tone was calm, with none of the previous fire that had been spitting out from between his teeth.

“it doesn’t matter,” sukuna said, moving away from the cover as his silhouette disappeared. “you’re here now.”

the hidden implications were not as subtle as he thought. he was just as possessive as he had ever been, and it seemed that ryomen sukuna would not be letting go of her again.

she was still his, and had been for all these long years.

“you must be hungry,” he said, swiftly changing the subject. “come here.”

her heart quickened.

slowly, she rose from the safety of the bed, each step as momentous as it was absolutely terrifying. after all this time, she would see sukuna again. the boy who had once protected her, coveted her, and shielded her from the worst parts of himself. the one who wanted to change his ways and be softer for her.

she rounded the byobu.

and there he was.

her bones shivered as her mind froze her in place, stopping her from moving a single step closer.

sukuna was sitting perfectly cross-legged in front of a low table, his eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips parted. a hand was frozen mid-air, suspending in bringing his cup closer to his mouth.

oh, how much he had changed.

sukuna had grown significantly in height, could quite easily tower over her if he stood. he was no longer a boy, but a man – big, broad, and dangerous. and she had not been mistaken before; he had four arms, adorned with strangest black markings, just like his face. if it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now. sukuna was everything taboo in this world, an embodiment of death and fury itself.

“sit,” he ordered, breaking his gaze and motioning in front of him.

his words were in a refined tongue, the kind spoken by highborn royalty and nobles spoke in – those who were educated and understood things beyond the grasp of people like her. she obeyed, feeling the urge to be as well-spoken as possible.

she had never felt so small or so common in all her life.

there was an array of different foods on the table, each more richly presented than the next. elegant bowls held freshly cut fish, arranged to look like the petals of a flower. at the centre of the table sat a lacquered bowl of sekihan at the center of the table, the red bean rice a sharp contrast to the earthy tones of the pickled vegetables around it. mochi of all colors and shapes were delicately wrapped in oak leaves, and chopsticks of pearl and gold were laid beside each of their settings.

sukuna cleared his throat. “so, marriage.” she nodded silently, picking up a piece of mochi. he continued, “i’m assuming it was arranged.”

“yes. he-uh, arrived one day in the village, he was a merchant. my father and the nakodo approved, and that was it.”

he hummed thoughtfully, a fearsome blaze in his eyes. “and did you want this?”

dangerous territory, tread carefully.

“n-not really, but he seemed… kind.”

a flash of red fury crossed his face, and sukuna pursed his lips. “i see. is that what matters most to you, then – kindness?”

careful, careful, careful.

“well… i did not want to end up with a man who would hurt me.”

a dry chuckle. “and do you believe that i will?”

a flash of a memory – of a burrow, of shared tears and painful farewells.

never.

“no,” she replied firmly, picking up another piece of mochi and chewing.

he seemed to approve of her answer, watching as she continued to eat. “good.”

they were silent again, the only sounds coming from the distant chirping of birds and the gentle trickle of a fountain outside. sukuna’s smaller eyes remained fixed on her, while the rest of his attention was on his meal and sake, his expression intensely contemplative and serious. his earlier heat had subsided into a brooding stillness, and he seemed just as amazed as she was that they were finally in each other’s presence again.

she bit her lip before tepidly trying his nickname on her tongue again, “ryo?”

he stilled for a moment, his eyes glistening with a hint of vulnerability before it vanished, and then made a questioning noise.

“what exactly do you expect from me here?”

“you will receive an education, i will not allow you to remain illiterate. you will learn to read and write, and study the arts and poetry. that is all i ask in return.”

“in return for what?”

“for residing in my residence with me. you will not return to the mountains or the village, and you will never see your parents again.”

this was it.

her childhood dream of staying with sukuna was finally here. perhaps he had really felt her pulling on their red string, felt her desperation and fear, and had come to save her. he wasn’t entirely human, after all; maybe he could have sensed her from so far away, and known about that deep hole within her. and so, he had taken her away from it all, demanding only that she say goodbye to everything she had ever known.

but things were different now.

they weren’t little children anymore. there was a taste of change in the air – something tantalizing and liberating. their dynamics had shifted, whether they wanted it or not. adulthood had brought new possibilities that couldn’t have been there before, the kind that made her heart race and chest flutter.

in the way sukuna’s eyes flashed, she felt that he knew it too.

it was her fate after all, she had just been too young to comprehend it.

so be it.

“alright.”

༺ ✤ ༻

the ink was blacker than raven feathers.

drip! drip! drip!

as beautiful as the depth of midnight, it shouldn’t be wasted.

she bowed her head, pensively holding her brush. the words were right there on her fingertips, straight from the centre of her heart, but she didn’t know how to say them.

or rather, if she could say them correctly.

biting her lip, she lightly pressed her brush to the page, the words flowing out with every stroke. when she was done, she leaned back on her heels and looked expectantly at her teacher.

“your brush technique was incorrect,” uraume chided emotionlessly, their icy aura ever present. “but you were close. try it like this instead, see?”

sukuna’s second had been tasked with educating her and showing her the finer ways of noble life. under uraume’s tutelage, she learned to draw the beautiful curves of hiragana and the straight, angular lines of katakana. she was introduced to the golden literature of her country, where she delved into classic and more modern texts, and learned to appreciate the hidden depths beneath the surface of grand tales and poetry.

once, she had been jealous of uraume. it was unnerving to see how much confidence sukuna placed in the ambiguous and frosty figure, and it hurt to know he trusted someone other than her. but she soon came to realize that uraume’s sole desire was to serve sukuna, and sukuna harbored nothing for them other than respect that surely had been well earned.

“try it again,” uraume suggested, returning to their position behind her and watching over her shoulder as she picked up the brush once more.

moreover, uraume was neither cruel nor haughty about her illiteracy and never treated her like a lowborn. they always guided her with a gentle coldness and a detached tone of instruction. she wondered what they thought about the nature of her relationship with sukuna, and if perhaps uraume had ever been jealous of her. she liked to think they hadn’t been, and if they had, they never showed it or asked any questions. for that, she was grateful.

what she had with sukuna wasn’t something she could describe easily.

he was there now, one of his eyes watching the way her hands moved with the brush. it wasn’t unusual that he was present; sukuna often observed their lessons, seating himself a distance and quietly reading a book or scroll. he never lavished her with praise, such was not his nature, but offered more subtle compliments in her progress: a tilt of his head, a single nod, and a hum of approval.

she would be lying to herself if she said it didn’t thrill her to hold his attention.

they only grew closer as time went on, building new little routines with each other. every night after they dined together, sukuna would tap his fingers rhythmically on the low table, completely silent, as she either read poetry from a book or recited it from memory. these were moments of softness, sukuna's strange way of drawing closer her, as the red thread connecting them weaved them closer to each other with every passing night. his gratitude was silent too: a heavy hand on her head, a quick press of his fingers to her cheek, and a small smile as he left.

it was easy to imagine sukuna as changed in those moments, a regal lord always composed and calm.

but that wasn't the reality of the world.

she was frequently reminded of it.

"i need to go," he would suddenly say, abruptly pulling her from her focus.

she closed her book and peered up at him through her lashes. “where?”

sukuna smirked, a wild gleam in his eyes. “to quench my thirst.”

he would then disappear, but never for more than a few days at a time. she liked to hope that his brief absences were because he disliked leaving her for too long. when sukuna returned, he was like a predator satiated from the hunt – more at ease, prone to teasing and sending her into a shy fluster. she realized quickly that he was still as he had been when he was a boy; always acting upon his desires and impulses without a shred of restraint.

although, sukuna kept her well away from any glimpse of that side of him.

she was relieved to be spared from it. even though she had accepted his nature, she was far more content to remain his tether to a calmer side, always ready to pull him back into the peaceful river of soothing milk and honey that was her company. yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was all she would ever be to him.

she had to wait three years for the winds of romance to finally shift.

the day after her eighteenth birthday, sukuna began leaving things for her to find.

sometimes the gifts were small, such as delicate hairpins, vibrant silks, or rare fruits from distant lands. they would enjoy the fruits together, her laughter filling the room as she watched him scowl at their unfamiliar taste. other times, the gifts were more extravagant: a retinue of handmaidens to attend to her every need, opulent jūnihitoe crafted by the best artisans, the emperor’s most exquisite jewelry, and the rarest art.

but perhaps the most precious gift of all was his poetry.

she didn’t know why she had assumed sukuna had no taste for poetry. after all, he had ensured she studied it, and seemed to enjoy listening to her recite it. she had thought it was to encourage her to uphold the traditions of noble women studying the arts, to refine herself as a proper lady. given his impulsive nature, she merely thought he lacked the time and patience to write his own poems.

but oh, how he had a way with words.

it wasn’t in the more traditional styles she was used to reading, but it was uniquely sukuna’s. he was never one to follow the rules anyways. they had started off expressing the calming joy he felt in her company, with gentle musings about her being like a light summer rain or the soft morning glow of the sun. those early verses were lighthearted, designed to make her heart flutter with silly little butterflies.

and now?

now they could make her heart melt into a puddle of its own blood, making her body run hot with feverish, burning emotions.

with every poem she read, warmth would spread through her cheeks and chest, her bones shaking from the intensity of it all. it embarrassed her how obviously and hopelessly in love she felt. sukuna, however, was completely unruffled, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched her stumble over her words.

“any particular reason why you have that stupid smile on your face?” he’d tease, ostentatiously chewing on a piece of fruit.

she looked away petulantly, a slight pout forming on her lips. “stop it, ryo!”

it was blatantly obvious he savored this.

how could he possibly expect her to act normally around him after reading something like that? these poems were a gateway to his soul, a window straight through his eyes and into his heart. she could hardly contain herself any longer, and it was almost cruel that sukuna was keeping her in suspense for even a moment longer.

but did sukuna even want marriage?

he never liked being bound to anything, always pursuing whatever he desired whenever he wanted to. perhaps he wanted the benefits of courting her without ever becoming tied to her. she wasn’t sure if she could ever accept the idea of being his concubine. after all they had been through, it would crush her soul.

they were taking a stroll together in the gardens after one of her lessons, but the air was tense. sukuna stood unusually close to her, completely silent as they moved together, stopping occasionally and waiting as she admired certain flowers blooming. she tried hard not to be too flustered, and attempted to diffuse the palpable tension between them by talking about all sorts of things.

“oh, ryo! don't you think this flower is gorgeous?”

“hmm, yes. quite.”

“the weather is so pleasant for this time of year, isn't it?”

“yes it is.”

“look, the koi! aren’t they pretty?”

“for fish, sure.”

she gave up after that last attempt. it was obvious she wasn't going to get much out of sukuna today in terms of conversation – he seemed completely and utterly wound up.

they stopped underneath the shade of a tree, and she gracefully tucked in the layers of her clothes beneath her before sitting down. sukuna stood pensively beside the tree, his side profile solemn as he clenched and unclenched his fists. his movements were slow, methodical, almost like it was the only thing grounding him in that moment.

and then, in a flash, he was crouched right in front of her.

“i have something to say,” he announced, his voice like stone.

she swallowed thickly. “then say it.”

sukuna exhaled, and she heard the sound of his knuckles cracking and snapping before he continued, “i recognize that we two are… different in many ways. i have been bound to you from the moment i first laid eyes on you, and i will forever be yours.” – a sharp inhale followed by a shaky exhale – “however, while i may accept this, i understand that you might not outside the ties of marriage.”

this is it.

“you are the one good thing about my soul,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a vulnerable softness that shook her to her core. “please, say you will accept me?”

she didn’t hesitate for even a moment.

“i have always been yours, ryo, and i always will be.”

༺ ✤ ༻

love was infinite.

it transcended time and space, indifferent to who it dragged into its otherworldly domain, filled to the brim with whiteness and the saccharine scent of roses.

being ryomen sukuna’s wife meant crossing that threshold into another world, one that he had forced to turn into the brightest shade of red. his love was ferocious, nearly crippling in its intensity. loving him meant baring her heart to him, exposed and vulnerable, ready for him to consume it completely. he was a deprived man who had finally been given the key to her soul, and now he was able to come through and show her how deep his love for her coursed through in his veins.

“i want to bury myself into your skin,” he murmured into her ear, his arms wrapped around her bare body. “and settle into the spaces between your ribs.”

and yet, sukuna was tender too.

he would crave the moments of quiet, when it was just the two of them, whispering in the dark about how much she meant to him. wherever they were, a part of him was always touching her – whether it was his head on her shoulder as they sat in the garden, or pulling her onto his lap during her lessons. all the while, his eyes were memorising every little thing she did; the way she laughed, how she breathed, and every different sound and expression she made.

sukuna was immensely proud to be her husband, always devoted to providing for and protecting her.

she never wanted for a single thing.

and yet, he was still larger than life, a force of strife and bloodlust.

she knew what sort of reputation he had, that he was something of a living legend. there was no doubt that history would remember his name, spitting on it and sending shivers down people's spines at the mere mention of it.

“the king of curses,” uraume revealed to her one day, a hint of pride in her voice. “that is what the sorcerers call him.”

and that title did not come without a challenge.

on an unassuming autumn morning, sukuna abruptly interrupted one of her lessons. “i must go,” he said abruptly, clutching his trident like a god of old, a hint of glee in his words. “the fushigawa clan must be brought to heel.”

and heel they must have.

for when he returned, sukuna's face had split into two, with a mouth comfortably situated at his midriff. she knew then that unspeakable atrocities must have been committed, because her husband’s body did not evolve unless he had killed and sinned in the most horrific ways possible.

sukuna averted his gaze from her, his skin drenched in blood that was not his own. `'you cannot love me like this."

“and yet,” she whispered, standing on her toes and cupping his bloodied cheekbones. “i still do.”

she had never expected his true nature to change once they were married. to deny it was to deny him – and his love for her. as long as he kept her far from the sight of it, what more could she ask for?

in those moments, it was easy to forget how quickly darkness could overwhelm a fire.

the twilight moon cast a gentle light as a pleasant breeze wafted through the air, brushing against her cheek in a tender caress. it was one of those quiet, soft evenings, where the world slowed down just enough for husband and wife to savor each other’s company. they sat by the koi pond, watching as the silk ribbons of gold and white fins traced elegant patterns in the water. sukuna’s head rested on her lap, a pair of his eyes closed, as she gently stroked his hair.

nothing was out of the ordinary.

save for the strange man with starlight hair strolling towards them.

her husband sat up, and they both turned to watch the man approach them. the stranger carried the aura of a man assured in his own destiny, radiating confidence in the self-righteousness of the path he was on. when he lifted his head and met her gaze, she couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of his eyes, which held a beauty that well surpassed even that of the heavens above.

she knew then that this was no normal man.

“you were stupid to come here,” sukuna huffed, barely sparing the man a glance as he helped her to her feet. “i prefer not to kill in front of my wife.”

“and yet, you will die all the same,” the man retorted, his hand glowing with a threatening iridescent aquamarine light.

boom!

there was a deafening thunderclap, followed by the loud creaking and crashing of tumbling wood. before she could blink again, she found herself somewhere far from their home, surrounded by trees and nature that seemed to stretch for miles. her husband’s expression was calm, a perfectly still lake amidst the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions inside her.

sukuna softly touched her cheek. “this will all be over soon, my love.”

he pressed a tender kiss to her brow.

don’t leave me, please.

and then, he was gone.

a strong fear settled in the pit of her stomach amidst the eerie silence. she flinched each time the sky lit up in hues of red and blue, once with purple, and she could have sworn that she heard the sound of her husband’s untamed glee carried on the wind. every rustle of the trees set her teeth on edge, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as the coldness of the night began to settle in.

snap!

she whirled around.

another stranger emerged, this time with hair as black as the night. shadows pooled beneath his feet, ominous snarling and snapping noises of hounds coming from its depths. with a sharp gesture, the man hushed and silenced the shadows, and the hounds ceased to be. he tilted his head curiously at her, as if he couldn’t fathom why she was here alone in this place.

but what struck her about him were his eyes — they were as green as the forests in the mountains.

it made her strangely homesick.

“my husband will never stop hunting you for this,” she finally said coolly, despite the terror coursing in her blood.

“you think that terrifies me?” he scoffed, instantly shattering the image of warmth she thought he had. “no matter what, history will forever remember as the sorcerers who brought the king of curses to his knees.”

a silver blade gleamed wickedly as the man grinned maliciously.

“meanwhile, you are irrelevant.”

she didn't say a word, understanding all to well what was about to happen and why.

would death be kind?

she shook her head, turning away from the man and looking up at the crimson twilight sky, unwilling to face the man or the cruel blade that was to be her end.

(a drop of blood in a firestorm, a scream of agony)

it doesn’t matter, so long as sukuna cannot feel it.

༺ ✤ ༻

death was abysmally cruel.

ryomen sukuna once believed that it would have given him the sweet relief he always craved deep down – something that would have finally extinguished the ceaseless fire blazing in his veins. it was a release he had always longed for, yearned for, and thought he had always been ready for.

especially when the curse, kenjaku, found him suffering amidst the wreckage of his vengeful rampage for the love that had been stolen from him.

“you had your chance, once,” the curse purred, his forehead stitches starkly contrasting with the pallor of the body he had taken. “but you knew that already.”

no, death had hurt him beyond measure.

it was a hailstorm of ice and sleet, beating down at him, surely dousing his fire, but so very slowly. even though his memory now was hazy at the best of times, he would always remember that pain. how he smashed and ground his teeth together, silent as stone as kenjaku worked to preserve his essence into every one of his fingers, because he refused to cry again.

all sukuna could remember was pain.

and her.

he would always remember her – the pain of loving her, and the pain of losing her.

and how he cried for the first and last time when he saw her crumpled body lying there in that forest. how he wanted nothing more than to hold her bones in his arms for the rest of time, to die right there and then with her, and let their skeletons be burned into ash together.

love had made him sick with desire, with hate, with yearning.

it terrified him.

because ryomen sukuna did not like to feel.

he then swore to himself that he would never repeat his mistakes. love was never to be touched again, and he would burn the world before it had the chance to hurt him once more.

and finally, here sukuna was, reborn and made anew, ready to enact that vow.

only, he hadn’t planned on being stuck inside this miserable, pretentious annoying brat.

no matter, this isn’t permanent.

“how you feelin there, yuji?” asked satoru gojo in an irritatingly perky voice.

sukuna’s vessel rubbed his chest tentatively. “i guess it kinda hurts a litt- ow! okay, never mind, it hurts a lot.”

satoru smiled. “well, lucky for you, i know someone who can help with that.”

sukuna rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath. oh, how he wanted to rip the smirk right off his face.

first, i’ll tear you–

a light laugh trickled in from just outside the door.

sukuna froze.

he knew that laugh.

the brat turned around, and through him, ryomen sukuna saw what he had thought he lost a millennium ago.

for a moment, there was nothing but white noise.

sukuna was entranced, captivated by the way her lips moved, the graceful way her figure leaned against the doorframe, and how every single feature of her face had remained unchanged and untouched despite all the time that had passed.

is this some sort of joke?

“ok yuji,” she said warmly, a kind smile on her face as she placed a hand on his chest. “this won’t hurt a bit.”

sukuna felt the ghost of her hand touching his own skin, familiar and warm, and he gripped his throne of bones tightly.

yuji frowned. “will it hurt you?”

“oh no, don’t worry about me. i can absorb as much physical pain as i want without feeling any of it myself.”

“that’s so cool! but, do you really not feel anything at all?”

she bit her lip, an ancient sadness in her young eyes. “well… sometimes i go blind for a while, and all i can see is the color red.”

“what? hell no, what if you go blind because of me? no way.”

yuji shied away from her touch, and she reached out to grasp his hand.

“no, i promise i won’t!” she practically begged. “please. yuji. i–something happens when i go blind, like something is trying to show me what’s missing inside me, and i need to find out what it is.”

so, you don’t remember a thing.

sukuna leaned forward, bones crunching beneath him.

“okay…” his vessel answered, apprehension and concern woven into his tone.

she smiled gratefully.

i think i understand what you were to me after all this time, my love.

༺ ✤ ༻

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[mostly-imagines]

but who’s the better husband: jay or dick?

18+ content below

apples, oranges…it’s all about preference babey

dick is a traditionally romantic kind of husband. buys you fresh flowers every week, insists on carrying all the groceries inside himself (all in one trip btw), opens doors for you and pouts when you beat him to it, lays you down and eats you out proper when he gets home from work. he loves to spoil you when you least expect it, taking you out on surprise dates or paying for you to get your nails done after a long day. he likes to constantly remind you and anyone that’ll listen that he’s your husband and that you’re his wife. really wouldn’t shut up about it after you’d first gotten married. i think deep down he’s a white picket fence kind of guy and he’d save up the whole time you’re engaged (and honestly for a while before that) to buy a nice little house for the two of you. you painted the walls together and he moved the furniture and decor around wherever you wanted. you start up your own little traditions as time goes on. on the last friday of every month you and dick experiment with new recipes, usually baking per his request. more than half the time it ends up inedible and quite literally falling apart, but you value the flour fights and post-taste testing messy kisses more than the leftovers or lack thereof. you like to handout candy on halloween to the neighborhood kids together and tidy up the house together when it’s needed.

jason’s main priority as a husband is making sure that you’re taken care of. he’d give you everything he possibly could and would find a way to compensate for what he couldn’t. he’ll get you the prettiest ring you’ve ever seen and he has a thing about holding your hand and watching it shine in the light. jason really is mr. domesticity and he would straight up build you a house. it would be a big plot of land, pretty isolated with trees all around. it’s probably like 30-45 minutes outside of gotham and well out of the typical range of danger. he’s more than happy to help you fill it with babies of your own and anything you could have dreamed of having when you were little. forever night owls, you’re prone to midnight parties with just the two of you and moonlight walks around the property. not to mention, he absolutely loves having a whole house worth of space to fuck you wherever and whenever he wants—it’s opened you up to a lot of new experiences. i also honestly think he would give up being red hood to settle down with you, at least for the most part. he’ll still suit up to help when there’s bad emergencies in gotham or his brothers need his help but he’s like 80/20 retired.

[wandasaura]

IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

summary — after you push wanda to her limits at the pumpkin patch, she returns the favor once you get home

warning(s) — dom/sub dynamics, slight mean!wanda, punishment, spanking, pussy spanking, thigh spanking, flogger, spreader bar, condescending tone, light degradation, slight dumbification, praise kink, aftercare, men/minors dni

kinktober

The position she had you in was nothing short of compromising, definitely beyond humiliating, but it had been more than earned after your attitude carried on throughout the nice day of fall activities she had planned for you both, you could see that now, even if you whined behind your hands that concealed your flush cheeks from her dominating stare. There was no reason for your constant complaining and grumbling, bratty remarks and sarcastic quips slowly twinging her smile into something forced and sad, even as she dragged you through a pumpkin patch filled with perfectly round pumpkins for picking and whimsically shaped gourds with amusing bumps and ridges. You hadn’t had a reason, merely not being in a good mood when she’d dragged you out of bed before your social battery was ready. That wasn’t an excuse for your behavior, you’d told her that in your apology on the car ride from the pumpkin patch to the apple tree farm, but still you needed to be punished, reminded of your place beneath her; she’d already made her mind up on that.  

Your back was flush against the plush gingham print comforter, its sweet vibe reflective of the equally devine aesthetic of fall with its burnt orange stripes and murky cream patches, your legs held taught by the spreader bar suspended from the headboard, keeping you exposed to her view with your legs above your belly and your cunt unhidden despite any efforts made to gain back some modesty. The cool air blew against your center wickedly, provoking goosebumps to rise along your skin as you anticipated the next blow to come from what could either be her hand or the flogger she held tightly. Her previous hits had been interchanging, a pattern only identifiable by the movements of her body reaching and grabbing, letting go and holding on. She was in no mood to warn you about which type of sting would come from her swats, nor did she feel pity enough to keep her strikes the same harshness. Some were soft, pleasant, welcoming, others were crippling spanks of blinding pain that left a powerful, slightly unpleasant sting behind that you would feel for days. Tears pricked your eyes as her palm clashed against the globe of your ass again, right in the spot that the last three had fallen. You wiggled vehemently, desperate to get away, to lighten the sensation of pain that was becoming more agonizing than pleasurable, but the spreader bar and rope bound you in place, and her hand only further emphasized your vulnerability when it fell upon your thigh with an equally cruel spank, pushing your legs closer to your chest, only opening you more for her eyes to drink in.  

“You were so bratty, my love, so testy, and now you’re trying to run away from my hand. Haven’t I told you, never bite off more than you can chew.” Her tone is inflated with that sickly cold condescending tone that dampens your cunt even against your best attempts to remain unaffected, and a lewd whine slips off of your lips, mingling with the tear tracks that have slowly begun to dampen your palms that still cover your mouth and cheeks. She allows you this much control, this slightest ounce of modesty, but its not without her ministrations practically tripling on your ass. “How pathetic you look, reduced to nothing but a sobbing pet on my bed. Tell me, darling. Will you try that attitude with me again?” 

“No!” You sob, unprepared for the next strike that comes, but it falls onto the center of your ass just after you’ve answered, and it leaves you writhing, thrashing for security that isn’t prohibited, not until she’s done with you anyways. “No! I promise! I promise!” 

“Hm.” She coos, and you can feel her jostling the bed as she reaches for the flogger discarded near your hips. It’s a strike that feels like a peace offering, the instrument not nearly as severe as the pain her hand is capable of bringing upon you. “I don’t know if I believe you, darling. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you remember what happens to little girls who want to catch an attitude after this.” 

Your blood runs cold as you feel the flogger trail across your most definitely scarlet red ass, it kisses your skin with its leather delicacy, cooling the patches that feel so painfully warm from where her palm had struck the most, but then it trails upward, higher and higher, past the dip of your ass, up to your thigh and you know you’re in for it now. A weak plea falls off of your lips, strained and muffled by your hands, but Wanda has made her mind up already, and your desperate attempt to earn yourself pity falls flat. The first lick of the flogger clashing against your sensitive skin is pleasurable, and a breathy moan fills the air at the same time as another lands in the same spot. That isn’t pleasurable, not anymore. You whine, subjected to the harshness of her assault with no escape, but Wanda doesn’t seem to care that you’re writhing and wriggling about, whining and whimpering so daintily sweet that it nearly contradicts the cruelness of her actions as she rotates between her palm and the flogger deliciously so. You’ve stopped counting how many strikes stain your skin with tingling, stinking pain, but when you think its over, when the blows lighten, she only starts again, high and lower, in the middle, on the side, assuring that every inch of your skin is red and bruised for days to come, wanting to assure you remember your place beneath her each time you sit or brush against something. 

A sharp cry falls off your lips when the flogger trails lower once more, the official marker of where her next destination will be. When it falls between your legs, catching on your clit that's pulsating and erect despite the pain that warps your senses, you’re hysterical, a babbling mess of pleas and whines. The once pleasurable sensation has ebbed away, and yet Wanda’s cruelness remains intact. You’re not sure how much longer you can take before it becomes too much, before you’re trying out your safe word and begging for forgiveness and comfort. She’s pushing you to your limit, the same as you pushed her. 

“Shh.” She concedes, her tone soft and light as it floats through the room and lands upon your ears, somehow feeling a million miles away despite her close proximity to your body that's ablaze with sensations beyond simplistic definitions. “Almost sweetheart, almost. I know you want to cum, do you think you can cum from me spanking this cute little cunt. Mmm, you’re all spread out for me, all drippy and soft. You’ve been tempting me, teasing me with this little clit that jumps anytime I hit you. It’s only fair I get to play with you how I want, isn’t it, sweet girl? You’ll let me play with you? Spank this pretty cunt raw?” There’s a subtle undertone to her taunting, a gentle easiness in her words. She’s asking if you can take more, promising that she won’t overdo it, bringing you back down to that pit of pleasure despite the stinging pain that still shoots through you. 

Unable to form the words on the tip of your tongue, you simply nod your consent, your hands finally falling away from your face as they grab onto the comforter beneath your back, sodden with sweat and arousal that has dripped down your body from your weeping entrance that remains empty and untouched. 

“My hand or the flogger, sweet girl. You can pick this time. No surprises.” She cooes gently, her fingers delicately spreading your folds, massaging the skin that hasn’t been striked yet. Tauntingly, she dabs her finger against your entrance only to pull away when you moan in sought after pleasure to instead marvel at the ropes of arousal that cling to her digit red from the impact of her palm clashing with your ass. 

“Hand.” It’s a weakly mumbled decision, but one that Wanda hears and accepts with a pleased hum. The position she has you in is beyond perfect, your entrance and clit unhidden and so spankable. It doesn’t dawn on you that this had been the plan all along, but it had been. Wanda had wanted to reduce you to nothing but a desperate submissive, wanted to remind you of your place, and selfishly she’d been waiting for the right time to truly spank your cunt, more than just the few soft teasing taps she gives whenever you ask her to go down on you. 

The first hit is soft, but the second is hard, and the third is harder. She’s not trying to break you anymore, but there’s still an ounce of punishment in her movements, although you can’t help but gasp and writhe in pleasure each time she strikes your clit so perfectly with her palm. You’re not counting how many times she’s strikes you, but before you know it, your back is arching off the bed and you’re pleading with her for permission to let go, to cum from her spanking your cunt with her hand, as dirty as it sounds. 

“You want to cum, darling? Go ahead, cum for me. Make a mess on my hand, it’s okay. You’re forgiven. Just let go, let go. Shhh, there you go, so good for me. Such a good girl.” She coaxes you through the powerful orgasm that laps at your being with immense intensity, not easing up on the spanks she delivers to your sensitive, abused skin. When you calm down, desperately tapping at the bed for her to stop, she’s undoing the cuffs around your ankles, placing the spreader bar aside and collecting you into her arms. You cry weakly, nuzzling your face into her neck as you mumble apologies and soft, indistinguishable things that equally break her heart and heal it. “All is forgiven. You took your punishment so well. Such a  good girl. My good girl. Let me get you cleaned up, huh? Put some lotion on you, get you in some comfortable clothes, and then well just lay here and cuddle, okay?” 

“Hold me. Please, just hold me for a little bit.” You plead, your voice scratchy and hoarse. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll hold you for however long you need.”

[alisonwritesimagines]

Wayne Family Garden ~Batmom Imagine~

Summary: Your plan on growing a garden. However, you don’t have a green thumb. Luckily, you know someone who does.

Author’s Note: I'm obessed with the Wayne Family Adventures on WebToons. Like you don't know how obsessed I am with them.

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, Poison Ivy and Harley know the Batfam's identies (its canon)

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

"What do you think Alfred?"

"I think having a lemon tree could really benefit the garden and our groceries," Alfred tells you.

"Maybe we can have an apple tree too?" You said.

"Sounds delightful. And Master Bruce agreed to your garden?"

"Yup. Said we can have it on the side in the backyard. And we can grow whatever we want," you smiled.

"We should start off small then," Alfred said.

"Right. So then a lemon tree, an apple tree, and carrots?" You asked.

"Sounds good to me," Alfred smiled.

You had been growing more bored around your home now that most of your kids were adults and had moved out of the mansion. So after seeing a good amount of gardening TikToks, you wanted to start your own little garden. But there was one slight problem, you didn't know how to garden.

So there was one person you could think of who could help you start off. You didn't want to bother Alfred more than what he has to deal with so you used your husband's technology to find a certain someone.

The apartment complex looked a little run down but yet again, you knew this was where they would be laying low. You knocked on the front door, only to see Harley Quinn opening it up.

"Mrs. Wayne? Whatcha doin here?" Harley asked you.

"Hiya, Harley. I'm looking for Ivy. Is she around?" You asked.

"Yeah. What's going on?" Harley asked.

"Harley. Who is it?" You heard Ivy ask.

"It's Y/n Wayne! Batman's wife!" Harley said excitedly.

"Hi, Ivy. I came here to ask for a favor," you tell her.

"Uh sure. What's up?" Ivy asked.

"I am currently planting a garden at my home but the problem is, I don't know how to garden. I was wondering if you can help me out," you asked her.

"Don't you have a butler who also knows how to garden?" Ivy asked.

"Yes but I don't want to bother him more than my family already has. And besides, I need more females around the house," you mentioned.

"What are you trying to grow?" Harley asked.

"I would like to start off with a lemon tree, an orange tree, and an apple tree. But I know those take a couple years to grow but I would like to begin growing carrots, tomatoes, and green beans as well," you tell her.

"Those are good to start off with," Ivy mentioned.

"Thanks. So will you come by my house with me and help me get started? I have the tools and everything to start off," you asked her.

"Yeah. My schedule is clear for today," Ivy shrugged.

"Thank you! Harley! You can come over too," you invited.

"Oh sweet!"

Whenever it was a light night, meaning that there was barely crime for once in Gotham, the whole family would get together for dinner. However, they were surprised to see two new comers joining you all in dinner.

"I expect you all to behave yourselves for the night. Ivy and Harley are my guests as they helped me with my garden today," you tell your family.

"Yes mom."

"And no hero or villain talk in the table. I would like a dinner where we can just eat like normal people for once," you say as you prepped the table.

During dinner, everyone ate peacefully but kept a close eye on Harley and Ivy. It was mainly you talking about the garden and your plans for it.

"What are you planning on growing in the garden ummi?" Damien asked you.

"I would like a lemon, orange, and an apple tree but I know those take a while to grow. But I'm also planning on growing some carrots, green beans, and tomatoes to start off," you say excitedly.

"Just make sure to follow the instructions I gave you," Ivy said.

"Of course. And I'll call you in case anything happens," you smiled at her.

The next few weeks, you were proud of your work. The trees were starting to form slowly but surely. You kept notes to check your progress as well as making sure everything was going smoothly. So it wasn't a surprise for the batfamily to see Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy come to their house every week to help check on your garden.

"They're growing good," Ivy tells you,

"Thank you!"

"If you want, I can help you speed up the process for the trees."

"I know I should wait but I do want to try baking an apple pie and make my own orange juice."

"As long as you keep maintaining it you should be fine."

"Mmm. Okay. Let's do it!"

Cassandra and Stephanie quickly rushed over to Harley's and Ivy's place with the bag from their mom. It had been a couple weeks since Ivy and Harley last visited you and your garden. Cassandra knocked on the door, waiting for one of them to answer.

"What do you kids want?" Ivy asked as she opened the door.

"wanted us to drop this off to you," Stephanie said as she handed her the bag. Ivy looked into it before smiling. A fresh apple pie along with a pitcher of orange juice and lemonade were placed in the bag.

"Tell her we said thank you."

"We will!"

"Let her know that if she wants to start something new, have her call me," Ivy tells the girls.

"We will!"

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Peter, Peter

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Implied Smut)

Summary: Season 2 Spencer and his girlfriend host a Halloween party and their couple costume causes some confusion

Note: Inspired by the scene in which Spencer doesn't recognize the kissing in a tree rhyme

Spencer loved Halloween. I knew that my boyfriend was a massive nerd. Honestly, it was a plus. With Spencer, I could be myself. He wasn't the type of man to raise his voice at a football game gone wrong. He wasn't the type of man had some weird purity culture blocks on me reading steamy books.

He was the type of man to passive-aggressive judge Jeopardy clues with the slightest inaccuracy. In my opinion, Spencer got a perfect score on the Jeopardy application which retroactively banned him from any type of game show in the franchise.

He was the type of man that encouraged enthusiastic and unabashed interest in things. Spencer had his old Russian novels and I had my novels with plenty of euphemisms for penis and good girl in Russian.

Compatibility, right?

Spencer had volunteered us to host team party. They spent the day hoping from grocery store to craft store to liquor store for various things they needed. The fall had finally arrived; and I welcomed the crispiness in the morning and the chill in the evening. Spencer wore a forest green and deep khaki sweater that complimented his eyes. He blushed when I told him, the tips of his reddened cheeks reached the bottom of his glasses.

"Ooh! We should use the pumpkins as a pitch for my Faerie Brew." I suggested, sizing up a rather large and lumpy orange pumpkin.

Spencer cocked his head. "What were you thinking of making?"

"Personally I think a pumpkin sangria would be revolting..." I sighed, thinking, "probably I'd do an apple, cranberry, lemonade sangria."

"Sounds like you and Penelope will be the ones to enjoy that?" He teased. Penelope was the first of the team to know. Spencer had a hard time hiding the reason as to why Penelope had caught him a florist near their apartments. I had met Penelope a couple weeks later and in the eight months since, we've become close friends. Mostly because I've grown to hate nights alone in our apartment. It's not the same without Spencer.

Spencer lifts the pumpkin and places it into the cart, waving off my insistence on helping. "Are you going to tell me what the costumes are? Derek really thinks he's slick doing what he's doing with his date."

"You'll see."

"Tell me, Y/N." Spencer pushed the cart along, stopping as I toss a packet of orange jello.

"I've never done jello shots." I claimed. "I was too serious and nerdy in college." Spencer gave me an amused look.

"I'm sure between the two of us, I was the nerdiest one back in college." He retorted, a look a smugness colored his face.

"You were twelve in college, Spencer." I countered, smiling when the tips of Spencer's crooked smile reached the part where his cheeks tinged red. "And you're lucky you're cute." I said. "But I want jello-shots."

"I'll get the sleeping bag out for Penelope. And we'll swing by the drinks aisle for some electrolytes."

---

Spencer had gotten stuck planning a seminar at the Academy so Penelope had decided to come over to help me the finishing touches. She was dressed as Hedy Lamar, the scientist/film star. The 1940s style suited her. Penelope had a bright red lip and perfectly curled blonde hair. Her dress with fitted at the waist and flared to the knees.

"You're a pumpkin?" Penelope's eyebrows were raised. She had begun organizing the jello shots tray into something resembling a pumpkin. "I would've thought you'd having the most creative costume."

I plated the mini-hot dogs into warming trays, trying to hide my thrill. I knew that Penelope would love this costume in its entirety. Spencer...he'd either love it or not.

"You'll see!" I said. Penelope had roped JJ and Emily into dressing up like the Powerpuff girls. Penelope, between the trio, had taken it the most seriously.

The rest of the team had arrived, except for Hotch who had simply shaken his head at the thought of trying Penelope's Franken-Punch. I poured the sparkly green liquid into a plastic pumpkin as Spencer walked into our apartment.

"You're the cutest pumpkin in the patch." Spencer said softly, his playful tone making me smile. Penelope pretended to gag into the kitchen sink at Spencer's sickly sweet affection.

"Usually I'd think you two are adorable, but tonight I am preoccupied." Penelope claimed. She had set her sights on one of Derek's gym buddies who was coming to the party. Much to Derek's chagrin. "Anyway, Reid. Go get your costume on." She insisted.

Spencer kissed the side of my cheek and made a face at the concoction. "You know calling this Franken-Punch isn't very accurate. The doctor is the one named Frankenstein." Penelope gave him a look. And Spencer threw his hands up, "All I'm saying is that if we're going to pay homage to the mother of science fiction we shouldn't be so cavalier with references."

Penelope huffed in faux annoyance as I kissed Spencer's face. "Go get ready, honey. JJ and Emily should be coming soon. And I think Derek and Danny are parking." I handed Spencer the bag with his costume in it and Penelope and I continued to get the apartment ready for the party.

It was hard to decide if Penelope was more enamoured with Danny or if Danny was more enamoured with her. It would be hard not to find someone who wasn't taken with the tech genius.

I sipped the drink Penelope had made. It tasted as good as it looked. Derek stood at my side, scooping some dip, chips, and a slice of pizza on his plate. Spencer came from our bedroom, a confused look on his face.

"And now what on Earth do you have him dressed as?" Derek smirked, as he noticed the text on Spencer's shirt.

Peter, Peter

"It's not anything that's not true." I shrugged, my bright orange cheeks smiling as I winked. Spencer hurried over, still confused. Penelope, JJ, and Emily took pictures together but instantly understood Spencer's confusion.

"Too much for me to know," Penelope said, groaning, "Now I see the creativity in this costume." She gestured to my pumpkin outfit.

Spencer appeared at my side, still confused. "Are you sure this isn't a mistake?" He asked, looking down at his shirt and then at me, "It's supposed to be a couple's costume, baby?"

Derek chuckled, offering to clink his and Spencer's glasses in cheers, "My man. Who would've thought."

Penelope giggled as she and the girls filled their plates and exchanged looks of both surprise and amusement. Spencer, however, remained confused. Danny, Derek's friend from the gym who wouldn't leave Penelope alone, joined in on the clever costume.

"Peter, peter, pumpkin eater. Good man," He said, clapping Spencer on the shoulder.

When the guests had gotten their food and drink Spencer and Derek stood together chatting about the results of the latest case. Gideon, who reluctantly donned a witch's hat, offered a curious glance at Spencer's shirt and then scanned his eyes towards me. He nodded, looked at Spencer and then shook his head in disbelief.

"That's enough." Spencer exclaimed. "Explain it to me." He grabbed my hand and I smiled. He always told me that my grins were infectious and just by looking at me he'll end up smiling. "Please. Derek won't stop congratulating me and I'm lost."

I chuckle, kissing Spencer on his cheek. "You're brilliant, baby." I said. "You're Peter, Peter and I'm the pumpkin. And you're a pumpkin eater." I explained.

"Oh." Spencer said cocking his head. "Makes sense. You're very sweet and I do like-" I clapped my hand over Spencer's mouth before he can continue. Sometimes that mind works too fast for the other parts of him to keep up. He kissed my palm, breaking my resolve. I laughed wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Y/N!" Penelope called out, clearly more than inebriated, "We want to play some games. And don't worry Dr. Reid, no bobbing for apples. We'll by the looks of it, you'll be bobbing for someone's pumpkin later." She smirked.

We divided into teams three, with Spencer and I on the same team. We shared the armchair and Spencer's had wrapped themselves around my waist. Penelope, in all her drunken glory, explained the rules. Just as she was going over the rules, Spencer gasped and called out.

"Oh! You mean like...cunniligus. Well then yeah, I guess it works."

tagging some friends bc i don't have a taglist anymore

@reidsbookclub @reidsbookclub @reid-ingandweeping @foxy-eva

[dreamdragonkadia]

Can I please have a Percy Jackson x soulmate reader who is also a child of Hera fic, specifically where they have each other's name on their wrist. Only if you're up to it, no pressure.

I’m full-on rolling with the adopted child of Hera route for this because of that post I made a hot minute ago (iykyk). This was such a fun piece to write, so thank you for requesting it! p.jackson x hera!reader

When the name first bloomed across your wrist in curling, ink-dark script, it hadn’t been you who noticed it.

It had been your mother.

One moment you were sitting at the marble dining table in her private quarters on Olympus, struggling to write an essay on the Greek pantheon for your mortal school (ironic), and the next, Hera had audibly gasped.

A real, actual gasp.

You’d looked up, blinking, only to find the Queen of the Gods frozen in place, her eyes locked on your left wrist. Then she was moving, uncharacteristically overly gentle, taking your hand like it was something sacred.

There, nestled in the soft skin just above your pulse point, was a name.

Perseus Jackson.

Her expression was unreadable for a moment, the goddess of marriage and family turning the wrist like it was a prophecy, her thumb brushing over the name as if to test its permanence.

Then she narrowed her eyes.

“If he hurts you,” she murmured, a glint of something ancient flashing behind her irises, “I’ll hand-deliver his soul to my brother’s realm.”

 It wasn’t exactly the most reassuring threat of maternal love, but you appreciated the sentiment. Mostly.

And for a while, that name was all you had. Just a reminder inked into your skin, a small tether to someone you’d never met. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might run into him—this Perseus Jackson—at Camp Half-Blood.

Until Silena Beauregard clocked your wrist.

You’d only just arrived at camp for the summer, backpack slung over one shoulder, when she swept you into a circle of flower crowns and idle gossip under the shade of the strawberry fields.

“I forgot,” Silena said with a little smile, reaching out to fix one of the daisies in your crown. “You haven’t been around long enough to meet Cabin Three’s one and only.”

You blinked. “Poseidon’s kid?”

“Mhmm.”

You tilted your head, adjusting the crown she placed on you. “Mom’s complained about him a few times… what was his name? Perce? Perrie?”

Silena actually giggled. “It’s Percy. And he’s kind of impossible to forget once you meet him.”

You shrugged. “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably has a sea salt ego and some tragic backstory. Don’t they all?”

That had been that for most of the day.

Between trying to nap in spots no one would bother you—your top pick was currently the roof of the Big House—and settling into Cabin Two, you managed to mostly avoid conversation. Hera’s cabin was more or less a shrine to symmetry and order, with marble floors so polished you could see your reflection in them. It was always sealed up tight unless you were there to unlock it with your presence alone. A little dramatic, but hey. Apples don’t fall far from immortal trees.

What you didn’t expect was to look up from organizing your few bags and see a shadow fall across the open door.

A boy was peeking inside, standing on the front step like he wasn’t sure if knocking would offend someone—or if the building itself might strike him down for the attempt.

Honestly, you didn’t blame him. Most campers had only ever seen Hera’s cabin from the outside—closed doors, golden torchlight flickering behind frosted windows, impossible to enter unless Hera deemed it so. And now? The doors were open, and you were there.

He looked… hesitant.

Dark hair a little damp like he’d just come from the lake, an orange Camp Half-Blood tee clinging to him, and sea-green eyes that immediately locked onto yours the second you moved.

You stared right back, unimpressed.

“Lost?” you asked, not moving from where you sat, legs crossed on your bed, unwrapping a granola bar you hadn’t even wanted until now.

He blinked, then stepped back a little. “No. I mean—no. I was just, uh… curious.”

Your brows rose.

“I’ve never seen this place open before,” he added quickly. “Didn’t mean to, like, spy. Or intrude. Sorry.”

You took a bite of your granola bar and chewed, slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You always peek into cabins you’ve never been invited into? Or is this just a special treat for the day?”

His lips twitched. “You always this hostile, or is it just your charming way of saying hello?”

You finally moved to stand, brushing off your hands. “Depends. You always interrupt people mid-snack?”

His grin broke through then—lopsided, boyish, annoyingly cute. “Only the important ones.”

You waved the boy in. “Take a look around, I highly doubt you ever will again, son of Poseidon.”

He blinked, visibly startled. “How’d you—”

“Please. You think I don’t know what my mom complains about?” You gave a light shrug and tilted your head, studying him like he was a curious painting. “You and your dad share the same eyes.”

Then you added, almost as an afterthought, “Yours are prettier, though.”

That stopped him cold. His mouth opened a little—like he was ready to fire back a flirt or a quip—but the words didn’t quite land. Instead, his gaze flicked downward.

To your wrist.

Your sleeve had ridden up just slightly when you’d waved him in. Just enough to see it—faint against your skin, the edges delicate and familiar.

He froze.

“You—” he started, but it came out rough, like his throat had dried mid-word.

You paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “What?”

He shook his head like he was trying to reboot. “It’s nothing. I just—” His words trailed again, and he swallowed. “Can I ask you something kind of… stupid?”

You crossed your arms, instinctively defensive. “You really are making it difficult not to insult you with a question like that.”

He huffed a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was still staring—less at you now and more through you, like something in the air had shifted and he was the only one who could hear the change.

Then, without another word, he turned his arm over and tugged his wristband down.

There it was.

Your name.

Etched across his skin like it had always been there. Like the universe had quietly stitched it into his fate and only now pulled back the curtain to show it off.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Your eyes dropped to the name inked on his wrist, and then—slowly, too slowly—you looked down at your own.

Your heart gave one single, staggering beat.

Perseus Jackson.

The name that had been on your skin for years, barely noticed, barely thought about. Something that had always felt like background noise—until now, when it matched his voice. His face. His everything.

Everything in your chest stilled.

“...Oh,” you whispered. It wasn’t eloquent. Wasn’t poised or godly. Just a breath of realization. A shockwave in syllable form.

Percy was watching you like you might bolt. Like you were a frightened deer, and he wasn’t sure whether to reach out or stay frozen.

“I—I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said quickly, voice cracking just slightly. “I didn’t even know if it was you until just now. I mean, I hoped, but I didn’t— I wasn’t gonna say anything unless you—”

You raised a hand, and he shut up instantly.

Not because you were angry.

But because you looked stunned.

Shellshocked. Like the floor had dropped out from beneath you and you were still trying to figure out which way was up.

“You’re serious,” you said quietly, your gaze locked on the mark on his wrist. “It’s not some weird Camp prank or cosmic joke?”

Percy snorted, a little breathless. “I wouldn’t exactly joke about this to the daughter of Hera. I like living.”

You didn’t say anything for a second. The name on your wrist suddenly felt heavier than it ever had—less like a mark, more like a tether. A bond.

Fated.

“Did you… always know?” you asked, voice small despite yourself.

He shook his head. “Nah. Mine showed up when I was twelve. Thought it was some mistake. Or a curse. Then I met your mom.”

You flinched.

“She didn’t say it was you, just… glared at me. Said I’d figure it out. Someday.” He looked down at his wrist again, his fingers brushing your name. “Guess this is someday.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Gods, she’s going to love this.”

“Yeah,” he said, with all the dread of a man facing imminent doom. “Can’t wait for that meet-the-mother moment.”

And for the first time since everything had started spinning, you let out a soft, startled laugh.

Because, of course.

This was your soulmate.

Your mother’s least favorite demigod.

Figures.

[sashiavi]

✧˚·.SashiAvi's Kinktober Day Six.·˚✧

#6|Skinny Dipping|#6

Sebastian x Reader - Word Count - 2.3k

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There was something serene about the mountain lake at night. White moon beaming down its gaze, the dazzly lights of the stars freckled over the water’s clear surface, rippling against the bank. Frogs croak in the distance, their chests beating out with each ribbit, a sing-along with the chorus of crickets chirping their way through the night.

Sebastian can barely hear it though. 

Ears cotton stuffed, deaf to the rest of the world, his eyes hyper-focused on you; The way you look up at him, skin naked and wet, hidden away under the water’s surface save for the supple skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Careful droplets caress over your form, rolling down your wet skin, going home to the pool below.

“Hi..” It’s all he can muster, running a palm down each side of your waist, holding the divet from your ribs to hips, letting his fingers sink into the soft curve of your body.

If he knew this was how a simple night smoke would have gone then Yoba, he would gladly become a chain smoker, blowing through pack after pack to have you just like this. To have a chance of catching you walking his way. To keep you from going home in a timely manner to selfishly drink up your company. You weren’t new to each other. Finding that sweet dance of playful sex, fooling around during your shared moments of downtime, exploring your bodies through rough bites and hard, snapping rolls of hips.

This was something else. Something all-new and different.

It started with a quip, some stupid thing that had managed to catch your attention, striking up a conversation full of sarcasm, dry and witty, bordering on something self-deprecating. You fed into it, spurring the conversation along, even accepting the butt of his cigarette when he offered it up to you. Oh, how your lips wrapped around the filter as you take in a drag, blowing that spicy smoke out from your lungs, up into the air before it wafts away.

Closer and closer you came together, leaned up against the thick bark of a cedar tree by the bank of the lake, shaded by the soft shaking leaves, hidden from the moonlight, faces lit up by the soft orange glow of the cigarette with each pulling drag. Sebastian’s lazy, squinted eyes flick between your own, watching the glint of moisture spark with the flickering burn of the minuscule blaze. His teeth sink into the pierced flesh of his bottom lip, Adam’s apple bobbing with his dry attempt at a swallow.

Tensions. Oh, tensions.

Rising up and up until they boil over.

You breathe out slow, letting the thick smoke escape your lungs, leaning close, blowing the spiced air gently into his face, chin tilted up as if you were going to press your lips into his own. Of course you pull away, holding the dying cigarette to his lips, watching the ash burn bright with a final pulling drag before the poor butt is flicked away. Sebastian holds his breath in his lungs, letting his palm cup your jaw, long fingers spreading to hold your face, thumb brushing once over with a caress.

You part your lips for him, breathing in his smoke, taking the shotgun with a little quirk of a grin cracking at the corner of your mouth. Honest to Yoba, Sebastian nearly lets himself hum out a sound of need, aching to get his lips on a newfound craving, to hell with his smokes, you were worse than nicotine, wanting to taste you on his lips and never get rid of everything you could give him. Before he can even get a kiss in, your finger stops him, pressed into the plump swell in a shushing motion, a light chuckle huffing from your throat.

You pull away and he chases, pitifully leaning forward into the newfound empty space, awing at the effect you have on the otherwise stoic man. You throw him a look over your shoulder, easily slipping off your top, throwing the fabric his way, shielding his view of your stripping form before he hears the wavering wave of the lake, moulding around your body as you get in. You were something spontaneous, ripping him from his comfort zone, somehow urging him to remove his own clothes with a cheeky beckon of your finger and a light, sing-song call of his name.

You were a siren, he was sure, pulling him against his own judgements as if he were hogtied, making his heart beat hard on his ribs, getting his mind to follow your call.

“Water’s nice, Sebby~” It's really all it takes for him to chase you like a lost kitten.

Of course you tease and run, splashing him with water, flicking droplets with a kick of your legs when you try to avoid him, play-fighting under the beam of the moon, disrupting the flat surface of the water. Push and pull, cat and mouse- Except Sebastian isn’t entirely sure who exactly the mouse was in this situation.

But you’re ever so gracious, aren't you? Wrapping your arms around his neck, legs hooking on to him as if you were a koala, lifted effortlessly thanks to the gravity defying properties the water blessed you with. He greets you, and you breathe back.

“Hi yourself..” Twinkly, sparkly eyes kissed by the moonlight. It's all he can think about. Your gorgeous face all damp, ends of your hair lapped at by the water, lightly moistened thanks to all the play teasing.

Words are useless.

Especially when his lips are on your own, moulding to your sweet mouth, deep and spit filled with tongues swirling over each other, noses huffing in search of air, and yet refusing to properly pull away. It's all silent sighs against each other's lips, clicky spit-filled swallows as you try to catch your breath, arms tightening around his neck in a desperate lock, fingers threading through the hair on the back of his head. Sebastian’s hands wander, down your waist, squeezing your hips, curving over your ass for leverage, carefully grinding you into the swelling pudge of his cock, making himself at home between your warm folds. That's what this was; Warm. So, so warm on his skin, shivering goosebumps down his back at the juxtaposition of the cool, lapping water.

He moans, and so do you. Swallowing down each other’s sounds with feverish kisses, lips moving harder and faster, slipping from the slow tandem you had roped yourself into, more teeth, clattering and clipping with little care - Hands racking through his hair, grabbing healthy fistfuls with a squeezing a tug, palms squishing the fat of your ass in a groping massage. 

“Fuck me-” You chirp between hot kisses, squeezing your legs around him tighter, pushing the swell of your tits into his chest. Sebastian groans, clumsily moving you to the bank of the lake, pressing you into the slope of sandy, pebbly dirt, bodies still mingled within the lapping water. Your hair is not spared from being drenched and sand-filled, cool water kissing your skin, washing over the hot press of your bodies. Sebasian’s hands dig into the ground, fingers scratching lines into the surface with a pebbly drag, taking desperate fistfuls as his lips continue to devour your own. 

His chest huffs, eyes glued shut as his kisses move, biting down your neck, letting himself suckle deep bruises and teeth-filled nibbles into all the sensitive spots of your skin. You cry out, breathing his name with a hiccup in your throat, fingers twisting a tug against his hair, thighs squishing him harder against you. The sound makes his cock bob, that call out into the open air, right by his own home, crying out for his attention seemingly uncaring of any prying ears that could be nearby. 

He couldn't hold back, not like this, Yoba- He needed you, needed to sink his cock into your cunt, feel the warmth wrap all snug around his veiny length, save himself from the bite of the night air and the lap of shallow water licking at your bodies. His own tongue dares to lap up those droplets on your skin, licking the rough of his taste buds up your soft neck, finishing with a spitty kiss to your ear before he growls out.

“Put me in, Princess.. That's it- cmon..” He urges, nuzzling his temple against your own, coaxing you through the process of sinking him into your heat. “Hold me like that- fuck.. Tugging on me so sweetly.. Getting me nice and hard f’you? Yeahahh?” He can’t help but babble a little, spurred on by his own desperation, something he brought upon himself- Nothing kills a man faster than his own head.

“Promise- promise you’ll fuck me- please.. Pleaseplease-” You slip his head between your folds, sticky-wet even through the wash of water between your laps.

“Promise, Baby- Gonna fuck you s’good, s’okay- I gotcha.. I gotcha..hahh-” He nods, rolling his hips while he speaks his promises, sliding through the fat of your pussy, knocking on your clit.

Sometimes to stay alive you've got to kill your mind. And it dies. Any legible thoughts killed away with the warm sink of his cock into your supple, velvety cunt, pulsing hard with a thick, veiny throb when the pudge of his head kisses a press into your cervix.

Sebastian muffles a groan, huffed with an ‘oomph’ from his teeth-bitten lips, already starting a steady rhythm, humping into your cunt, letting your legs pull him in over and over. God, you mewl, chin tilted up to the night sky, hands clawing into his hair, fingers squeezing at the swell of his shoulder, doing your very best to pull him closer. It's impossible and yet? He craves it, needs to be pressed into you in every way possible, lapping at your tongue, fucking snappy thrusts into your creamy cunt.

He pulls back to see you, shining in that bath of moonlight, dark and lathered in sweet mystery at the luna’s kiss, the lake water pooling around your hips shining bright with those twinkles of light, lapping at your skin with each rolling thrust of his hips.

“Fuck..” More, More- Needs to see more.

His gritty sand groaned dirt covered hands pry at your legs, pressing rough grains into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, pressing you down into the water- The sweetest mating press one ever could muster - Legs spread nice and wide for him, pinned and stinging with the grit of dirt, knees rocking in tandem with each snap of his hips. Don’t get him started on the noises. Mewly moans and chanting babbles of his name dribbling from your lips, the squelchy sweetness of your cunt paired with the repetitive ripple of water following his every thrust. Skin splashes together, sprays of dribbling droplets coming off of the connection, bodies clapping together with a vulgar ‘plap, plap, plap.’

“Ahh.. hmmn~ S-Seb-!” You writhe and moan, squirming against the sandy bank, one hand gripped desperately at one of his wrists holding pressure into your spread legs, grounding yourself with him. The other messes with your clit, rolling the bud between your fingers, circling the sweet thing with the flat of your fingertips all while his hips smush into your knuckles with every grinding roll.

Sebastian’s palms slide up, hooking under your knees, into the soft underside connecting the joint, grinding your poor skin into the pebbly lake floor. He mounts himself on you, fucking feverishly into your cunt, hips moving down with obnoxious claps, splashy water perpetuating the noise- He stuffs his face into your neck, lips and teeth back on your skin, sinking down into the supple flesh while his cock dares to throb. 

Closer and closer- Feeling a build up in the depths of his gut, veins gushing warm blood into the tip of his cock with a hot flex, threatening to spill and burst-

“Cumming-! S..Sebastian! Ohhh Baby please- please!” You beat him to it, crying out for him so sweetly like that, sobby sounds cutting through the splash of water rippling with his fucks, fingers tightening on his wrist, speeding up against the bead of your cunt.

“That's it- Cum f’me.. Gonna be right there, Princess- Fuckk take me there-” His throat growls out a deep groan, teeth grit while he keeps up those praises, sweet talking you through the brunt of your orgasm, laughing a huffy, arousal tainted chuckle all light from his chest when you cream. Sweet and squeezy, velvety walls massaging the length of his cock as you cum, pussy suckling him in, inviting the hot pulse of his own orgasm with a loving hug.

His hips snap in sharp staccatos, throat stuck in a perpetual growl with each lingering fuck as he spurts. He creams into you, hot and ropey filling up the depths of your sweetness, milked off by your squeezing. His eyes dare to roll, jaw going slack with sloppy, hasteful kisses, voice box betraying him with shameless praises and confessions, accidental “I fuckin love you’s” gasped into the skin of your neck.

He gifts you a final grind, rocking his hips in small motions, working you through the comedown, handsy palms opting to pet and soothe at your thighs, tickling the skin from the inner depths of your bikini line all the way up to the knee. He helps your poor legs wrap back around him, nice and comfy while he comes down to knock his forehead into your own, resting his weight on his forearms, trapping you into your own little bubble. Away from the moon, hot breaths huffing in the space, crickets entering Sebastian’s ears once more, the surrounding atmosphere gracing its presence in his mind once again. 

He swallows thick, breathing hard, nuzzling his nose before pulling away just enough to see you.

“Hi..” It's all soft giggles of disbelief from there.

→ Kinktober Masterlist & Taglist ←

some soft Sebby today <3

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any thoughts please let me know! I'd love to hear them <3 your words spur my heart on!

Property of : SashiAvi

TagList

@deepestnightcolor @madsw9 @the-massive-simp @neetily @wrongdodo @modern-gremlin @blakebearsblog @skelitea @saoirse06 @yumelurve @kiwibyssongg @scrunkle-writings @regalchick33 @sydbeenis @kasasim @cheerupbabie @shinypainterturtle @callinz @jellyfishlord123 @b-lossm @tetatitanica @princesstiti14 @cherryminxx @kyrothehornypuppy @animeandobeymefandom @thecr0w @toorusproblems @joviaschaoticmind @quiruifam @sturniolopowers @hon3yydew @ghost--heart @booitzbellie @skullkroncher @maryenette @asssholeuwu @cowboyweevil @heylisin @its-starlight-farm @cheezydoritos69 @sephreads0 @hitatwiin @avocado-sloth @empressil @loverboykirstein

[apomaro-mellow]

Corroded Coffin ransoms Steve 4

Part 3

Steve's makeshift shackles were released and he honestly had half a mind to bolt. But in the end, he figured it was better to get this all over with. Eddie pushed Steve in front of him and he started towards the convenience store. The bell rang on the door as he went in. The cashier didn't even look up from his magazine.

Steve pretended to peruse the candy aisle as he scoped out the place. He didn't have a gun or a knife, so he couldn't be expected to stick up the joint and empty the register.

Bingo

Eddie was posted up by the magazine rack right by the door. Steve went towards the back where the drinks were. He grabbed a couple six packs and casually walked back up to the front. The cashier looked up then and Steve felt his heart skip a beat before he bolted for the door.

He could hear the cashier screaming at him. He could hear Eddie howling behind and yelling for the van to start. Steve threw himself into the back and the cashier had chased them outside. Steve's leg was still dangling out the door as Doug peeled out of the parking lot. Eddie pulled him further inside and shut the door.

The van was a cacophony of loud noise as they drove back to Gareth's house. Only when they got to the driveway and parked did it begin to quiet as they all caught their breaths.

"So", Steve spoke up first. "Trust me now?"

Eddie just shoved him. "It's a start. Let's talk about what else you can do for us."

In the house, everyone was either a full can or a can and a half into it. Eddie still wanted to hold out hope for their original plan.

"Can't we still ransom your folks? We could call 'em up from whatever resort they're all and demand the money."

Steve shook his head. "It's not gonna work. Your best bet is just taking some stuff from my house and pawning it."

"Works for me", Jeff said.

"Your parents really wouldn't give a huge payout for you?", Gareth asked, eyes narrowed.

"Well they didn't last time", Steve shrugged and then stood up, crushing his can and picking up his third can.

"Wait. Rewind", Eddie said. "This isn't even your first kidnapping?"

"Yeah and I gotta be honest. Compared to them, you guys are amateurs", Steve said as he cracked his beer open.

"When was this?", Jeff asked.

"Uhh, ten? I don't know, the whole things kind of a blur now. I just remember getting in a car, being in a room, talking with my dad on the phone and finding out he wasn't gonna shell out the money for me."

"...Jesus Christ", Eddie breathed out. "And I thought my dad sucked."

"Okay, it's kinda apples to oranges", Doug said. "Harrington's dad sucked. Eddie, your dad sucks in a different way."

"Why does your dad suck?", Steve asked, switching the attention off of him.

"Psshhh, where do I start? Never around until he wanted me to do something for him, was a dick to my mom, ditched me when cops came, all around scum of the earth." Eddie stood with a groan. "And the apple don't fall too far from the tree."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're not that bad, Munson. I told you, you guys are third rate kidnappers."

"That's the one thing I didn't mind being being last in."

"You got anything you're first in?"

"You wanna find out?"

Eddie didn't realize how close they'd gotten, almost toe to toe before Gareth cleared his throat.

"Uhhh, do you two need a room?"

Eddie cleared his throat and took a step back. "So, you just let us into your house? And we take what we like?"

"Exactly", Steve said. "A lot of it's insured anyway."

"Dudes, we might be able to get more than just battle of the bands money", Doug said.

"You guys want something more than some band competition?", Steve asked.

"We can dream big", Jeff said.

"Like what?"

Gareth started immediately and Jeff spoke with his eyes, hinting to Eddie that they should both go to the kitchen. They did and Jeff wasted no time.

"Don't fall for Harrington's shtick."

"His shtick?"

"Yeah, his jock shtick. He's gonna get you with the things they do and you're gonna fall for it."

"Like what?", Eddie leaned in.

"Just stay metal, Eddie. Okay?"

Eddie snorted. "Yeah, whatever man."

They decided to just go ahead and do the job tomorrow morning. They stayed up until about midnight before figuring out they should probably sleep before robbing a house. Gareth also suggested they take turns watching Steve.

"I stole beer for you guys, where's the trust?", Steve bemoaned.

"You could still earn some more points", Eddie said. Then he saw how the others already declared themselves 'not it' by putting their fingers to their noses. When Eddie's face fell in realization, he groaned, eliciting snickers from the others.

Gareth slept in his room while Jeff and Doug took up the couches in the basement. Steve laid across the couch in the living room while Eddie got comfortable in the armchair right across from him.

"You're really just gonna watch me all night like some stalker?", Steve asked. "What if I wanna beat one off?"

Eddie shrugged. "If you wanna give the freak a show."

"It's weird to just watch."

Eddie wanted to choke on his spit. "'Just watch'?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Munson, you had to have done it once."

"Done what?"

Steve sat up and made a jerking motion with his hand. "I mean with friends."

"I'm afraid I'm unaware of that custom", Eddie squeaked. "You and the guys on your team just, what? Jerk each other off?"

"Don't make it weird. We do it to ourselves. We just...do it around each other. If you're gonna do it, might as well, right?"

Eddie remembered Jeff's words then. Harrington was either trying to entrap him now, or get him in a trap later. He was just dollar signs to Eddie and that's how it needed to stay.

"Get to sleep, Harrington. You can go one day without abusing yourself."

Part 5

Taglist

@tinyplanet95 @dammitjim02 @chaotic-waffle @missarte-beltane @im-sam-fucking-winchester

@persnicketysquares @estrellami-1 @spookycollectorcandies @chocolateraccoonlights @exasperatedsighohmy

@disrespectedgoatman @yesdangerpls @me-ig7 @imaginary-maggie-waggie

[krkiiz]

mastermind . luke castellan x reader

maybe the things that led luke to you were never accidental at all

luke castellan x f!reader . reader is the daughter of demeter . tooth rotting fluff , established relationship , nicknames

note : this is inspired by mother tay tay’s song “mastermind” (one of my fav songs in midnights frr) not edited! sorry for some mistakes. Hope you enjoy <3

The camp was never silent. Songs of birds echoed all across the painted skies, gallops of pegasus clapping through the fields, chatters of the half-bloods, sounds of clashing swords, shots of arrows. The camp was never silent.

Yet the two of you sat on the edge of a cliff, the camp’s background noises fully muted, too engrossed with each other’s presence as your hands interlaced as one.

From the top, you could see the overview of the camp. As the sun sets on the west, you get the best view of the skies painted in an orange hue, with hints of blue as the moon begins to rise.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Eyes still on the canvas of clouds, you asked your boyfriend beside you.

“Of course I do, flower.” A small chuckle blew from his lips. “How could I ever forget.” The boy smiled, recalling his encounter with you a few months back.

You tore your gaze from the orange hues to the boy by your side, raising an eyebrow of amusement.

“No, literally. I tripped and got stuck on a vine, and you helped me. It was so embarrassing, I swear, sunshine.” You tilt your head back, erupting in laughter as your boyfriend covered his face that was now as red as strawberries that grew in the camp’s garden.

“That was hell of a first impression, though.” You pointed out. “What were you even doing in the woods alone, by the way?” You asked the boy, curiosity grew in your heart akin to sprouting apples on a tree.

“I don’t know, I guess I felt drawn.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“Drawn? To the forest?”

“To you, flower.” He winked and you rolled your eyes playfully. “Ew Luke, get away or I’ll push you off this cliff right now.”

Luke glowed as he dove into the epiphany of laughters and you joined soon after. “I’m just kidding.” He pinched your cheek softly triggering a frown from you.

“Do you remember the next time that we met?” You tore your gaze from your boyfriend, eyes now settling on the deep blue that was slowly taking over the horizon as the orange tinge melts in the west. The setting sun was truly a sight to behold. But to Luke, no creations of the gods or even titans could ever compare to the beauty of the demigod by his side

Not hearing an answer, you turned your head towards the curly haired boy, the view of his pupils dilating as your e/c hues melted into his own clear as daylight. “Love? Is everything alright?”

Luke now understood how Hades had fall for Persephone as he had found himself entranced by the beauty of another one of Demeter’s daughter before him. The light breeze flushed against your cheeks, how you would always look beautiful even when your hair becomes a mess after training. How your skin glowed in sunlight rivaling Apollo’s children themselves. To Luke, you are his epitome of beauty. Like a single rose that stood amidst thorn bushes. But he has to be careful. One prick is all it takes to let his heart bleed out in his hands.

“Hm? Oh yeah everything’s fine. Don’t worry, darling.” He shifted closer, his fingers grazing yours. “Anyways as you were asking, yes I remember our second meeting. And our meetings after that and after that.” He smiled, recalling the memories.

“We keep meeting up by accident after that first meeting.” He chuckled softly.

You hummed. “Don’t you think it’s weird though? How we keep meeting accidentally after that?” You tilt your head slightly.

“Maybe fate brought us together. Who knows?”

“Yes…” You trailed off. “Or maybe it’s something else.” You started playing with his fingers that was laced with yours, but your eyes remained on him as you observed the slightest shift in his visage.

“What are you saying, flower?”

“What if I told you that…none of it was ever accidental at all?”

Silence engulfed you in the shape of a cold, harsh breeze. The sun was long gone by now. From here, you could see the luminescent glow of Artemis’ vacant cabin, as well as the campfire that brew from the other campers.

Your heart ached at the gap between you as Luke as he slowly untangle your fingers. From outside, you look the same as ever, waiting patiently for his response. Inside however, your head was screaming in every corner, anxious thoughts clouding your thought bubbles as you think of every worst possible scenarios that might happen.

Great job! He probably think you’re a stalker now and wants to break up with you.

Break up? You didn’t want to break up with him! Of course not, you love him and he loves you! … Right?

The storm that was raining all over your thoughts were soon crushed by the slight upturn that formed on one of the corners of your boyfriend’s lip.

He noticed your slightly stiff stance, he took your departed hands once more, knowing it will ease your nerves. “I know, Yn.”

You always loved how your name rolled off his tongue. So effortlessly as it calls your given name with such love, such adoration. Yet it was his answer that got you off guard.

“Really?? You knew, after all this time?”

“You really think you can trick the son of the god of tricks?” He pointed out, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“This is so embarrassing.” You bury your blood-rushed cheeks into your palms and Luke smiled at the sight, admiring the red hue that settled on your ears and face.

“Hey don’t be! Truth be told, I only found out from the nymphs.” Your eyes lit up at his confession. Maybe your plan wasn’t that horrible after all. “Well I mean that only confirmed it. I had my suspicions about your little master plan after our third time of meeting accidentally.”

Your groan in your hands. “What did the nymphs tell you?”

“That you had a crush on me.” He paused looking at your tomato face. “And that you were too shy to make the first move.” He peeled your fingers from your cheeks, revealing the scarlet hues on your facial epidermis.

“It was impressive though, you little mastermind. It worked didn’t it?” He placed his palms on your cheeks, caressing it like a fragile vase.

You brought him closer, leaning your forehead against his as you brushes your lips on the tip of his nose. “Yeah. I guess it did.”

The demigod frowned as he missed the presence of your lips on his skin. He leant more forward, your noses grazed each other and he finally sealed the distance of your lips with a soft kiss.

The moon shone with a glow more ethereal than usual, the stars map out the skies like seas of glitter. You both dove head first into the epiphany of love. Lips press against another as nature becomes the witness of two demigods’ form of adoration.

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

[justagirlswrld]

Ephemeral.

a/n: i was looking for some edward cullen fics and decided to write one because i couldn’t get this plot out my head(most likely been done but oh well my turn). this is my first piece of writing that i’ve shared so feed back is welcomed! don’t be a asshole though.

summary: ephemeral- e·phem·er·al- lasting for a very short time.

warnings: long asf. sorry for errors. edward cullen/jacob black. not a lot of Y/N use. fem!reader, teen!reader, slight witch!reader. maybe ooc, kind of movie and book. reader is “older” then eddy. jacob is aged up to bella’s age. au where jacob isn’t a creep. edward has more than one sperm. no explicit sex scenes but sexual intercourse/loss of virginity implied. angst? not sure if this counts as mature content but added a warning just to be sure. hope you enjoy.

The day you met Edward Cullen was cold, wet and dark.

Since you were born and raised in Forks you always assumed that this was the small town’s default weather but today’s rain was plentiful and unforgiving.

Your dad honked the car’s horn again as you hurriedly slipped on the rain boots your mother gifted you for your 15th birthday. You grabbed your umbrella and dashed out the front door before jumping into the back seat of your parent’s BMW.

It was the first day of sophomore year and they wanted to make sure they sent you off personally. You weren’t complaining about it though. Most kids your age would probably moan or groan about the frequent hugs or kisses on the cheek from your parents but with your dad being a traveling physician and your mom being one of the few doctors at Fork’s hospital you cherished the limited interactions with them.

You didn’t think they’d be able to send you off, let alone drop you off at school anyway. You assumed you’d be riding the musty, yellow school bus. You couldn’t contain your smile as you talked idly with your parents from the backseat and watched the rain and emerald trees fly by from the window.

You would’ve been nervous if you hadn’t grown up with most of your peers or if your best friend, Nina, wasn’t waiting for you in front of the school. A red umbrella protected her from the rain but her thin, grey jacket didn’t do much against the cold, you could see her teeth chattering from the backseat. You kissed your parent’s cheeks and told them goodbye before jumping onto the wet concrete.

Nina’s hair fell in soft, inky tendrils down her back and you made sure not to make a mess of them when you two hugged. She smelled like lilacs as you told her how much you missed her and she returned the sentiment.

You and Nina had been inseparable since diapers, your grandmothers were best friends before Nina’s grandma passed a few years ago. You didn’t get to see much of Nina this summer since your grandma wanted you to take the witch side of your heritage more seriously.

You complained to Nina in a hushed whisper about your grandma making you spend all summer picking different plants for her elixirs as you walked through the big, doors of Forks high school. Nina filled you in about her summer on the reservation as you stuffed unneeded items in your locker.

You two ended up parting ways; Nina going to social studies and you to math. Time seemed to fly by and before you knew it was time for lunch.

You sat in the back of the loud cafeteria with Nina and a four other girls you knew. When you plopped down in your seat you were instantly pulled into the excited chatter. “Did you see the new boy?” , Amanda (you were pretty sure that was her name) asked as she unpeeled an orange.

All eyes turned to you. “Uh, no”, you ate a spoonful of apple sauce, “I didn’t know there was a new boy.” This sent the girls into a frenzy, all five of them talking over each other to describe this mysterious new boy. You caught some of what they were trying to tell you. Tall, quiet, handsome but you had to scrunch your face up and shake your head when you caught the word freshman.

Nina rolls her eyes at you, “Oh, yeah. Y/N likes her men older.” It was your turn to roll your eyes but you didn’t deny it, even though the oldest (and only) boy you ever spoke to romantically was only a year older. Amanda(you think) shrugs her shoulders. “More for me then”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The dismissal bell rang faster than you thought it would. You walk Nina to the bus and give her a parting hug as she promised to call you later. The squeak of your wet shoes was the only sound that accompanied you on your walk to the music room.

Your parents had a rule that you had to have an after school activity and you decided not to go with volleyball this year and instead would take piano. Playing the piano was nothing new to you. Your grandfather taught you the basics and a doleful lullaby before he passed, your father taught you the rest. You didn’t mind honing your skills, especially since you were only able to play a few days this summer.

Your instructor, who was also the 12th grade science teacher, had left a note on the door saying he’d be late so you made yourself comfortable on the bench in front of the large, ebony piano. You stretched your legs and cracked your neck and fingers. You poke two manicured fingers on the keys closest to you. Two sweet notes fill the air.

Once you were settled you took a deep, shaky breath as nervousness crept into your mind. Don’t they say if you don’t use it you’ll lose it? You thought, mind once again going to the limited amount of practice you had this summer. But you swallowed that down and with no other worrying thoughts you began to play.

Relief flooded through you, your fingers pulled to the keys like they were magnets. The sounds coming from the piano were literally music to your ears. Soon you were in your own world, the pitter patter from the rain fell into the background as you continued playing the haunting tune on the piano. When your fingers finally stilled you were startled by the sound of clapping from behind you. You jumped about thirty feet in surprise and whirled around to see who had frightened you. The scowl on your face instantly disappeared.

Ethereal was the first word that came to mind when you took him in. With his perfect,bronze hair and chiseled jaw he looked like he stepped out from the pages of The Odyssey. It seemed like his lithe framed towered over you from your place on the bench. The boy peered down at you through thick lashes. A smile was on his full lips but his eyes were serious. Why haven’t I seen him sooner? This can’t be the new boy.

“Hello”

You mirror the greeting.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Jubilation laces his smooth voice, like he told a joke you hadn’t caught on to. “I heard the music and had to see who was playing.”He holds out a pale hand for you to shake. “I’m Edward Cullen.” His grip is strong and his hand is freezing from the frigid weather. You eye the grey peacoat he wears, probably does nothing for the cold. You shake his hand and give him your name. Edward rolls your name around on his tongue, it almost sounds better than the melody you just finished playing.

“Are you new to Forks?”, You hope you sound friendly. “Yes. My family and I just moved here”, he places his hands in his coat pocket. No way he’s a freshman. “That song was beautiful…did you compose it?”, You shake your head, “My grandfather. I watched him play it growing up.” “May I sit?”, Edward asks, studying you with topaz eyes. “Sure.”, You swore you heard a waver in your voice.

Edward takes up so much space on the bench, you didn’t realize how broad his shoulders were when he was standing up. Edward shakes out his hands then begins playing a rich, mournful song of his own. Your eyebrows shoot up as you watch his slender fingers gracefully prance across the keys. Then as soon as he begins he finishes.

“….Dont take this the wrong way are you sure you were born in this time period?.” He laughs and you would’ve said it was the most melodic sound you ever heard but freshman is written on his forehead in red ink. That sly smile returns to his face as he gets up from the bench, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You and Edward don’t speak the following weeks. You greet each other with looks and slight head nods but don’t talk again. He’s always with his family; a very muscular boy, a girl with spiky hair, a statuesque blonde and a boy who looks perpetually tormented.

You do notice him in places you didn’t before like the hall, the library, the cafeteria(how he didn’t like lunch food because he never touched his tray)and Geometry. You find yourself (hopefully) secretly studying him. Unfortunately for you he’s handsome. His light eyes, shining hair. The way he doesn’t carry himself like a freshman at all, he reminds you more of a young gentleman. Unfortunately for you he was handsome.

You learn from your mom when she calls you from one night at work to tell you that Dr.Cullen is their adoptive father. “I think it’s amazing that he would give all those children a lovely home.”

That same call is the reason you run into Edward at the hospital.

Your mom forgot her dinner and didn’t want to leave and get anything so your dad thought it would be a good time to let you behind the wheel. When you get to the break room your mom and Dr.Cullen are chatting. They both lounge in plastic chairs, you hug your mom and place the Tupperware on the white table. “Carlisle, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

You and Dr.Cullen smile at each other, he asks you how you are and you do the same. You take in his angular jaw, amber eyes and fair hair. When he’s not looking you and your mom make eye contact. He looks like he should be in movies. “Edward mentioned you played piano.” Your chest warms at that and inwardly you roll your eyes. “Yeah, i’ve been playing for my whole life.” After polite conversation you’re able to escape leave and in your rush you run straight into a wall and land on your butt.

But then a cold, pale hand is reaching out to you and you realize it’s Edward.

“Are you okay?”, his voice sounds like honey. He pulls you back to your feet with one hand and you see his biceps flex in his black shirt. “Yes. Thank you.” At first you two stand there awkwardly, then hesitantly fall into friendly conversation before you two both part ways.

The next two months are filled with studying, crafting elixirs and learning minor spells, Nina and….Edward. He’d become something like a friend…an acquaintance? you’re not sure but somehow you seem to find yourself having conversations with him at school. You’d learned little things about him like his birthday, He was gemini. You were an aries and that made you and him compatible….not that it mattered. He learned things about you like your favorite color and about your cat, rose.

Sometimes he’d come by piano practice and listen for a moment. He’d watch you with an expression you couldn’t read, maybe ask about your day then leave. Edward was just as hesitant as you were to become whatever you were. He’d say stuff like, “I’m not someone you should be friends with” or something else broody and mysterious. You’d roll your eyes and laugh. Edward would laugh too but his eyes always held a seriousness behind them.

Until one bleak day after a long,piano practice you’re walking to your car, listening to your ipod without a care in the world. You trip over a fallen branch before you realize it and you brace yourself to hit the ground. When you open your eyes you’re standing on two feet instead.

Your mind is in a frenzy before you notice the frozen hand on your arm. You fix your headphones, placing them around your neck. Edward’s topaz eyes- not topaz, they were some weirder…darker color. His eyes bore into yours the whole time. “Thanks”, Edward lets you go, “You’re welcome.” You look at the boy, you weren’t sure if that was a good word to describe him. “How did you get over to me so fast?” you ask him curiously. He smiles, eyes hard, “I was behind you. I was calling your name but I guess you couldn’t hear me over the music.”

Edward walks with you to your car, if you could even describe it as walking. He seemed to glide more than anything. Edward opens your door for you and you laugh as you slide into the drivers seat . “You are not 15, how old are you really?” Edward leans on your car, hovering over you. “Why do I always have to defend my age with you?” You look up at him, his hair is disheveled and his dark eyes are trained on you.

“Because I don’t believe you.” He looks at me incredulously, “I’m not 15 because I have manners?”, Edward asks you. A smile playing on his lips. You smile back and don’t hesitate to say “exactly”. He laughs but his voice is stern when he says, “I’m done trying not to be your friend.” For a moment there’s only the sound of birds and bugs.

“Me too.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Your grandma had always deemed January 3rd the best day to forage velvet foot mushrooms. This particular January 3rd you were staying with your grandma while your parents were away at a conference. Your grandma lived in a small house in the middle of the woods. The only indicator that there was a house was the long stone walk way, lined by small lights your dad put up. Your parents had offered to buy her a house in town but she refused. She’d said something about working better in the forest.

You knew your grandma would need a lot of mushrooms to make the elixir that soothed the pain in her hands and ankles so you offered to find them for her. You didn’t mind missing school. You laced up your boots, put on your coat and grabbed your basket. You gave your grandma a kiss on the forehead, “I’ll be back before dark.”, you reassure her.

The sun was beating down on you as you trekked through the woods but it did little to help the cold that seeped through your jacket. You cursed yourself for not bringing your gloves. You thanked god when you stumbled on a patch of velvet feet deep in the woods. You bend down to inspect the mushrooms and begin filling your basket, there’s a comfortable silence. You jump then tense when an inhumane scream too close to where you’re foraging rips through the forest. A few birds fly out the trees but the rest of the animals go silent, or had they been silent the whole time?

A stag bursts through the bushes beside you and you’re knocked on your tailbone, wincing when you hit the hard ground. The stag doesn’t go far, it staggers to the ground some feet away.

It looked like a bear…or wolf had tried to gut it. The animal was covered in blood and more leaked out onto the cold forest floor. You sat in shock as you watched the steam rising from the dying animal. That’s when rustling comes from the same brush. You scramble to your feet, crying out when a sharp pain blossoms in the area you fell on. Confusion overtakes the feeling of pain when a black boot comes through the foliage.

You register bronze hair,a manic expression, coal black eyes and…..shiny skin. Not shiny but dazzling skin. He almost looked like he had been set aflame. you want to cover your eyes or look away but you can’t. you were ensnared in Edward’s trap.

“Ed-Edward?” Is all you manage to strangle out. His head snaps to you, faster than you ever seen anyone move. You stare at each other, you take in his skin, it reminds you of your mother’s diamond earrings dancing in the sun.

Edward doesn’t respond. Everything but his hair, eyes and feet are covered in the stag’s blood. It drips down his hands and covers his mouth in a way that suggests he ran a hand over the bottom half of his face. Finally he’s able to look away from you and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Edward lets out a pained sound that sends more birds soaring from the trees before running away. The gust of wind leaves your hair flying and leaves rustling. You grab the basket of mushrooms from the forest floor before bolting in the direction of your grandmas house.

How was he that fast? You think as you run to the house, trying to ignore the pain in your back. If you can even call what he just did running, if you would’ve blinked you would’ve never seen him leave.

You stumble over branches as your mind races. His skin. Like he was set aflame. You had read about his skin somewhere. You hold onto that thought until you’re finally bursting through the rickety doors of your grandma’s house. You ignore your her screams of “no running!” as you go up the winding staircase two at a time.

When you reach your the small potion room you take long strides until you’re in front of the books thrown haphazardly over her desk. You go through book after book until you found the title you were searching for. Gripping its aged spine you step closer to the light coming from the circular window.

Your grandmother’s bestiary was a thick, worn, book and you knew it well. You read this book from cover to multiple times a day as a kid, entranced by the drawings that seemed to pop off the page and their fanciful colors. You flipped and flipped and flipped until you find the page you’re searching for. Instead of warm hues this page was drawn in white, red, black and grey.

The bits of yellow on the left page helped depict a man shining in the sunlight. it looked like the author had attached real diamonds portray the man’s skin. The page on the right shows a black eyed… person? covered in blood from head to toe. It’s hard to read but you believe Vampyre is written in crude, black letters above both pages. More information is written wherever there’s room on the pages but it’s unintelligible due to age.

You planned to confront Edward the next day at school. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t show. That remained the same for the next week. You kept the book in your bag just incase you ran into him though.

The sky was clear the on the Friday you decided to skip piano lessons and go to Nina’s house instead. Her mom greeted you with a warm hug. Her brown eyes were happy as you two spoke about school and her new job.

You were lying on the couch rereading a horror book when Nina suggested visiting her father on the Quileute reservation. The clock on the end table beside you read 6:00 pm. It would be getting dark soon and you weren’t sure if you should be out late with a Vampyre running around. Against your better judgement you agreed.

The ride to La push was quiet beside the light singing that came from the radio of Nina’s pick up truck. You felt wrong not telling Nina about your suspicions about Edward. There was no secrets between you two and if a vampire was terrorizing Forks she should be the first to know. But you wanted to be sure you weren’t losing your mind first.

There was a great bonfire going when you two arrived, it seemed like everyone was out of their homes and surrounding the inviting fire. They were talking in light conversation, most leaning over to try to warm their fingers from the frigid cold. You recognized some faces from frequenting the reservation with Nina. Like Mr.Billy Black who sat by Nina’s dad and Mr.Blacks son, Jacob. You recognized his friends as well but couldn’t remember their names.

Nina’s father wraps you both up into a big, bear hug. The large man practically lifts both of you off your feet. You and the others around the fire fall into a comfortable conversation. Jacob and his friends have you holding your stomach with laughter. The elders share spine chilling stories about men who can shift from humans to wolves and it has you wondering just how much of it is made up.

When the cool, night air rolls around you and Nina are saying your goodbyes. You hug everyone around the bonfire before departing in her truck. “Call me when you get home! I love you!”, You say while hopping out the passenger seat and onto the rough gravel of your drive way. You notice that your parents cars are gone and the house is pitch black, besides the twinkling light that brightens the porch. Mom and dad must be at work. Nina waves goodbye as she drives away.

You thanked god you didn’t forget your key as you turned it into the lock. The house is cold and you don’t wait for your eyes to adjust as you fumble for the light switch. You wince when you find it and bright lights flood the vast living room. You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen and fill Rose’s bowl, humming a lively tune to yourself the whole time.

When you finally make it upstairs and to your room, you push the door open to reveal a slender figure dressed elegantly in black sitting on your bed. Your reflexes cause you to throw your water bottle at Edward with a yip. He dodges it effortlessly. You scuttle to the far end of room, knocking over trinkets on your desk. His eyes had returned to their original golden color and they watched you intently from his place on the edge of your bed.

You move your lips to ask him how he got in your house but notice the open window beside you l, the white curtains fluttering from the night breeze.

“What are you doing here?”, you try to say as confidently as possible. You were scared out of your mind but he didn’t have to know that. “Why do you smell like a mutt?”, your eyes brows scrunch together in confusion. “What?” Your eyes stay trained on him as you grab your book bag from where it slouched on the leg of your desk. “I’m asking the questions.” You dig in the bag and his stare is unreadable. “And I don’t want any weird, mysterious half answers either.” You finally grasp the bestiary and he watches you flip until you find the two pages you discovered weeks ago.

You tread across the space separating you two, gripping the book by its worn spine. When you reach him you shove the illustrations in his face. “Vampyre- that’s why you were sparkling in the woods. Thats why you’re always freezing! That’s why you don’t act or talk like a 15 year old-“ Edward shakes his head, his perfect, bronze hair never moving out of place. He smirks but his eyes are razor sharp, “You think you figured it out?” He takes the book from your hands, tracing the diamonds depicting the man’s skin- his skin in the sunlight.

you cross your arms indignantly, “Yeah, I do actually.” He flips through the book, it’s a very quick motion. Inhumane. Topaz eyes meet yours and a chill goes down your spine. You wonder if you should find something else to throw.

Edward’s voice is stony, “No one will believe you.” He rises to his full height and looks down at you harshly..maybe with a bit of fear as well. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone….as long as you’re only eating animals.” You tell him, blinking up at him through thick lashes.

He lets out a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh, “If I was feeding on humans who would stop me?!” He flits from in front of you to look out of your large window, a hand resting on the frame. You turn to face him and you hate how..strong his back looked in the moment. “I’m a killer, Y/N” He turns back to you now, his features bathed in pale moonlight. “I can control my….urges but this is why I didn’t want to be…friends with you.” He spits the word out like it burned him.

You don’t respond and only stare at his ashen face. His eyes look go from hard to..vulnerable, soft even. “How do I know you won’t tell anyone?” You walk over to him and take his large, icy hand in yours. You guide him to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. Edward watches you quizzically, you’re sure there was a smart remark on his tongue.

You snap your fingers together and a thick puff of smoke appears, you blush but laugh at the shock on Edwards’s face. “How-“ He starts but you shush him. “That’s not what was supposed to happen.” You try again..and then again and finally when you think you’re just embarrassing yourself a pure, bright light beams from your fingers. You cup the sunlight into the palm of your hand and bring it to you and Edwards’s face.

The light bounces off Edward’s skin and it’s like thousands of diamonds dance in place of his usual pale skin. You don’t think when you place your other hand on his cheek and rub your thumb across his skin. It’s still cold to the touch and hard, like granite.

You drop your left hand and extinguish the light by balling your right hand into a fist. You sit back and Edward stares at you with another unreadable expression. “I’m a witch…not a very good one but still.” You nudge his strong shoulder with yours, “You won’t tell my secret and I won’t tell yours.” And to your surprise Edward agrees with very little argument.

You two spend the rest of the night bouncing questions off each other. Edward is sprawled over your bed, pillow under his head when he tells you that his family are “vegetarians” meaning they only drain animals. “That’s why are eyes are gold,” He explains to you in his silky voice, “If we drank from humans they’d be red.”

You’re propped up against your large, wooden head board when as Edward explains how and why he was turned. “Did it piss you off that I was right about you not being 15?”is your snarly response. Edward actually smiles then mirrors your remark, “Yeah, it did actually.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Since that night you and Edward’s relationship did a 180. You two were no longer reluctant friends but close. You met his family and he met yours. Sometimes they sat with you and Nina at lunch. Well, him, Rosalie and Emmet.

The eccentric one , Alice, didn’t really seem to like you. She seemed to leer at you like she knew something you didn’t. Other times you would skip practice and go to Edward’s beautiful home to watch him play while his skin shimmers in the sun from the expansive windows in the Cullen house.

Edward taught you about vampire gifts and you showed him a few simple elixirs for fun. You taught yourself how to use your powers to block your mind from him but the simple spell took more power than you could manage. Did you really care that Edward could read your mind? Sometimes you felt like he could do it without the powers.

You’d complain to him about school, boys, potions and your parents. And he’d complain about wanting to rip out your math teachers throat. Edward would sneak into your room through your open window some nights and you’d talk until the sun came up. You even played baseball with his family on one stormy day. He explained to from the drivers seat of his Volvo that they had to play during storms to cover up the sound.

“Will you be here for my birthday?” You asked one day when he was driving you home from school. It was March 10th (thirteen days from your 16th birthday) and that meant less gloomy weather and more “camping trips” for the Cullens.

He pulled into your long, empty drive way and you looked at him expectantly. He gave a sheepish look in return. “I’m sorry but we leave today. It’s supposed to be very sunny these next few weeks and Carlisle doesn’t want to risk it.” He emphasizes this by putting his pale hand into the rays of sunlight that entered the car.

You take his shimmering hand in yours, chest turning. You try to keep the disappointment off your face. “Don’t be upset.”, You drop his hand and roll your eyes, “I’m not upset. stay out of my head.” Edward laughs, “Keep your wall up and I wouldn’t be able to get in it.” You don’t tell him that keeping it up for an extending period of time almost had you passing out in gym.

“And anyway, you’ll have Mack or Matt-“, he waves his hand dismissively,”To keep you company.” He has a charming smile on his face, his white teeth gleam just as much as his skin. You try not to smile back and keep a stern tone, “I keep telling you his name is Chris.” But I don’t want Matt or Chris to keep me company, I want you.

You don’t say the rest out loud but you’re confident he heard it anyway with how his eyes flutter to yours. His expression is unreadable. You thought it was unfair that he could dig in your mind but you didn’t know how he was feeling half the time.

Someone calling you name is what pulled you out of your dream and into consciousness during the wee hours of your birthday. The voice was deep, irresistible even- “Edward?” You called, mind still slow and groggy with sleep. You sit up and blink your eyes a few times to help them adjust to the darkness. Edward is sitting beside you on the bed. At first you think you might be dreaming but your brain could never conjure up an image this perfect.

His bronze hair is damp and you guess it’s from the light downpour that was happening outside your window. He smells woodsy and of cologne when you hug him tight. He does the same to you, you don’t say it out loud but you missed Edward while he was gone.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.” Edward pulls the string to turn on the lamp on your night stand. You finally look down and notice a small, velvet box in his alabaster hands. “Thanks. But you didn’t have to get me anything.” You take the box out of Edward’s open hand, shivering when your fingers brush his cold palm. “Yes, I did.” A boyish smile adorns Edward’s face as he watches you open the box and hold up the gold necklace to the faint light.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful.” You motion for him to help you put it on. When his slender fingers brush your neck you’re sure your heart is beating faster than the day you saw him in the woods. Edward’s looking at you with a smoldering expression and you have to tear your eyes away from him. “How much was this?” You begin ranting about how he didn’t have to buy the necklace but he shush’s you when his cold hand reached out and fixes the locket hanging just above the clothed valley of your breasts.

“Don’t worry. Carlisle gave it to me…and now i’m giving it to you.” You grip his shoulder as you get out the bed. Edward watches you as you walk over to your bathroom, thanking him the whole way there. The locket really was beautiful, you couldn’t help but admire it in the bathroom mirror. An image of you kissing Edward flashes into your mind and you blush and groan at yourself.

You’d always thought Edward was handsome but that was a sore topic for you. Albeit he was one of your best friends and you didn’t want to ruin that relationship…..but a kiss couldn’t hurt.

You call his name, fingering the locket around your neck. But when you poke your head out the bathroom he’s gone.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

“What happened to you and Chris?”

“Who’s Chris?” You put down the magazine you were flipping through, a laugh in your voice when you reply to Edward. He sits beside you on the black, leather sofa in his room.

When summer started a few days ago you were sure that you and Edward’s relationship would tank . You were happy you were wrong.

Edward flits off the sofa and over to one of the many shelves filled to the top with cds, his back is to you but you can hear him clearly. “So…you’re only thinking about being with me because you and Chris are over?”, he feigns reading a cd. You feel like he’s genuinely looking for an answer because you actually remembered to put your wall up(even if you did drop it a moment later). You smile lightly at the thought of “being” with Edward.

“For one there was never a me and Chris. Two, I’ve thought about being with you since you walked in on me playing the piano.” You get up and walk over to the wall sized window to hide your blush. You wrap your arms around yourself as you wait for a reply. Edward is behind you in less than a second, cool air accompanies him as his limber body towers over you. His breath on your neck makes the soft hair resting there stand up.

“Good because I was thinking about tearing him apart whenever I passed him in the hallway.” Your skips a beat and you turn to look up at him. “Was Edward Cullen jealous?” You’re sure if he was alive he would’ve blushed, instead a smile paints his full lips. You can’t help but to look at them before meeting his light eyes. “I’ve never felt that emotion”, he says sarcasm lacing his pleasing voice.

You reach out and pull him into a cold hug, your face in his hard pecs. Your mind wanders to how good he looks in the fitted black shirt and grey sweats. You’re ready to let the compliment fly out your lips when Edward’s body goes rigid and he stops breathing. You look up at him the best you can, confusion painting your features. His expression is pained as he takes a step away from you.

“You can’t like me that way.” You deflate a little as you turn back to gaze at the scenery outside his window. Edward’s tone leaves no room for argument, “I’m not the good guy.. i’m a monster.” He doesn’t elaborate and you don’t force him to.

As you peer at the river with your arms crossed and the locket Edward gave you heavy around your neck, you think about how you don’t believe him.

You wave Nina goodbye from your porch and watch as she drives away. The cool morning air causes you to shiver slightly. Your parents were at another convention, this one was in Australia and with you now being 16 your parents felt you were okay to stay at the house alone (you’ve been doing that anyway but that’s neither here nor there).

You decided to stay the night at the reservation with Nina. You smiled to yourself as you think about a joke Jacob told last night, pulling out your house key to unlock the door.

The heavy ,white door swings open and a pale hand catches your arm in a steely grip, pulling you over the threshold and in your living room. Edward has you pressed into his hard chest, engulfing you in scent and it sends your head spinning. Edward’s breathing is hard but his voice is even when he says, “You and Nina were playing with the mutts again.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

You untangle yourself out of his muscular arms and punch his chest, wincing in pain immediately after. But you pull yourself together and make your voice stern, “Didn’t I tell you not call them that?” Edward had caved and ended up telling you about him and his families violent history with the wolves. Now you really knew what it meant when he hurled the word mutt or dog when he was talking about them.

You throw your wall up, eyes trained on Edward as he flops as ungracefully as a vampire can onto your living room couch. He has a smirk on his handsome face, “Its kind of annoying that I can’t read your mind.”

“Vice versa.”,

Edward laughs but your face is stony. “I don’t understand you.”

“I’m a vampire. You’re not supposed to.”, he says in a ‘duh’ type of tone. You sit in the arm chair beside him. You look in his tawny eyes with the most serious face you can muster, “You confuse me. You tell me you’re a monster but pull me into your arms? You tell me I can’t like you that way but hold me until I fall asleep?”

You tear your eyes away from his and put your face in your palms in frustration. You drop your hands and look at him again, his face was solemn but you continued. “I like being your..friend. But if that’s all we’re going to be we need to calm down a little bit..because I like you.” He huffs and looks away for you a moment like he’s gathering his thoughts. For a moment you’re scared (and a little hurt) that he might agree.

“I’m too old for you, Y/N”, he’s using his quiet, seductive voice but his eyes are conflicted. “You’re only a year older than me.” You say confidently. “I’m 86 years older than you.”

You shake your head at him, “No, you’ve been one year older than me for 86 years.” A slight frown comes to Edward’s beautiful face, “Even if that made sense, a person like you.. shouldn’t be with someone like me.” Your eyebrows knit together, “Someone like me?”

Edward lets out an exasperated sigh as leans back onto the couch. His hands fidget on his knees. “You wouldn’t understand, you said it yourself.” It’s your turn to let out a sigh. “Help me understand then!” You’re on your feet, “I can’t read your mind, Edward!” Your voice sounds close to pleading.

He looks at up you through thick lashes from his place on the couch. His voice is soft and you hear the same pleading tone that was in yours. “…You’re alive, you’re good. I am death incarnated. I won’t do anything but hurt you, corrupt you…” Edward shakes his head, “I don’t want this to end badly, you’ve been a good friend to me.” His next sentence makes your heart stutter and causes a shade of red to appear on your cheeks

“But…you happen to be one of the most beautiful women i’ve ever seen.”He’s in front of you in a second, standing tall over you. His golden stare seemed to swallow you whole.

Edward’s cold hand tentatively reaches up to your face, he twirls a piece of loose hair around a slender finger before releasing it. You can’t do anything but stare at his beautiful face. Taking in the way his angular jaw tics, they way his tounge darts out to wet his full lips.

Edward pulls you into his chest, one hand on the back of your head as he presses his face into your hair. He inhales deeply. His breathing is staggered but so is yours as he gazes down at you.

“But I can’t stay away from you”, Edward’s voice comes out in breathless whisper.

Your voice comes out the same. You’re sure if he wasn’t a vampire he wouldn’t have you heard you say, “Then don’t”,

And when Edward kisses you your eyes flutter close and you have to grip his nice, grey sweater to ground yourself. His hands are buried in your hair and he’s making the sweetest noises you’ve ever heard. You’re not sure how long you two stay embraced in each other’s arms but when you do let each other go, you can’t wipe the smile off your face.

The rest of the day is spent in your bed, tangled in Edward’s arms. Edward kisses you hesitantly, you have to make the first move for most of them. “Was the kiss good?” you ask Edward as you lay on the mountain of pillows on your bed, his head on your stomach so your view of his face is obstructed but you can swear that you feel him smile.

He sighs when you run your hand through his unruly hair and begin to massage his scalp, “It was….exhilarating. But that was my first kiss so I don’t have much to compare it to.”

You smile lightly, “Mine too.”

Edward takes you on a date the next day. Your hands are intertwined as he drives his car to your favorite restaurant. He says something about courting coming before kissing and how you make his morals weak. You just give him a kiss on his cool cheek, happy to be in his presence.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You barrel down the steps, heart racing as you slip on your sandals. You sprint out the door and leap down the porch steps, you fling open Nina’s passenger door and toss yourself into the seat. She looks at you with one dark eyebrow raised and a smirk on her cherry tinted lips. “I think that’s the fastest i’ve ever seen you move.”

You huff as you put your seatbelt on, “You told me you were ready to leave me.” Nina puts the truck in drive, laughing all the while. “But that doesn’t mean almost break your neck getting to the car.-“ , she takes a quick glance at you before turning her eyes back to the road, “I thought Edward said he didn’t want anything for his birthday anyway.”

You reach over to the radio and turn the music up slightly. “He did but this is his first birthday we’re celebrating as a couple and technically our one month anniversary is coming-“ Nina cuts you off with a fake gag, she takes her had off the wheel to act like she’s putting finger down her throat. You laugh, pushing her shoulder slightly, “I know it sounds crazy…but I want to make a good impression. I really like him Nina.”

“I can see-“, Nina sighs, “What do you get a 103 year old leech anyway.” You lied when you told Edward you wouldn’t tell any one him and his families secret. You had to tell Nina for her safety. “I have no idea. I was thinking a silver ring..he always wears a bracelet with his families crest so it may match the studs on it-“ You sigh as you look out the window, the sun is warm on your cheek, “I could get his moms name engraved on it.”

“That’s nice, thoughtful even. I thought vamps didn’t do silver though.” You laugh lightly, “Pretty sure that’s a myth. I thought that was just werewolves anyway.” Nina shrugs, “I don’t know man. Let’s just hope his finger doesn’t fall off when he try’s it on.”

The ride to Port Angeles is quick and peaceful. “Okay, first thing on the list is finding a ring.” You tell Nina as soon as you two hit city limits. The task ends up being less daunting than you anticipated , Nina ends up finding a ring as soon as you two step into the second jewelry store. It’s a thick, simple, silver ring. Timeless but old fashioned, exactly like Edward.

“Can you engrave it?” You ask the small, grey haired woman behind the counter. She nods and lets you know that it can take up to two hours. She eyes you and Nina, “And how will you two be paying?” her voice is high and nasally. You pull a band of money out of your purse and her eyebrows shoot up. You laugh inwardly, one of the perks of having parents that were always gone were the gifts they gave you to make up for it.

When June 20th comes around you’re more nervous than you’ve ever been before. You’re not sure why because Edward isn’t acting like today is a big deal but the black, ring box is burning a hole in your purse. You feel woefully overdressed as you stand outside the Cullen’s door, you’d put on your best dress, your most expensive flats and even curled your hair. As soon as you raise your hand to knock on the hefty door, it’s swinging open and you’re greeted by the shortest Cullen.

You lower your hand as Alice smiles at you, “Hello!”, her voice is chipper and you can’t help but smile back as you return the greeting. “Your dress is so beautiful, I thought you’d wear the other one. “ She turns gracefully on her heel and you follow her into the foyer of the beautiful home. You’re so confused you forget to thank her for the compliment. You were pretty sure she hated you, you guess you were wrong? or she just appreciates fashion.

When you’re in the living room you note the lack of party decorations. So he was serious about not doing anything for his birthday, you think. You feel out of place with the singular happy birthday balloon tied around your wrist.

You guess the confusion you’re feeling is noticeable because after Esme almost crushes you with a hug she says, “I thought Edward told you we don’t celebrate birthdays.” You look at her sheepishly, “I thought it was just a “him” thing.” This makes her giggle and pat your back adoringly. Rosalie walks down the steps, hand in hand with Emmet. You’re surprised the he can even fit down the steps with how broad his shoulders are.

Rosalie flits over to you, taking a lock of your curled hair in between her fingers . “Well, don’t you look like a doll.” A blush creeps onto your face, “I thought Edward was being dramatic when he said you didn’t do birthdays.” This causes Emmet and Rosalie to burst into a canopy of laughter. You cross your arms in agitation, “What’s so funny about that?”, They look at you like they forgot you were standing in front of them.

“It’s not you,” Emmet begins to explain, “It’s just that the last birthday we celebrated was mine.” You’re sure you still look lost, “In 1935.” He finishes up. That causes you to smile and giggle. You put a hand to your forehead, “I don’t know…I was just nervous about the whole vampire birthday. I didn’t know what to expect.” Emmet claps a hand on your shoulder, “Don’t worry, he’s never brought a girl home so there’s not a lot of expectations to meet.”

Edward is beside you in a second, steering you up the stairs that Rosalie and Emmet just came down from. “Ignore them.”, Is all he says as you two make your way to Edward’s room. “Why? I thought the conversation was insightful.”

“I’m sure you did”, Edward’s says with a slight smirk. When you finally make it into his room Edward plops onto his leather sofa, grabbing you by the waist so you fall with him onto his lap. He puts his face in your neck, inhaling deeply then kisses the soft skin. “You look beautiful.” Your brain goes haywire for a moment but then you remember why you came.

You begin to dig in your purse with shaky hands, “I know you said you’d come over when you finished hunting-, You take in Edward’s dark eyes, his unruly hair. “But I wanted to give you this now. Incase I was sleep or something.” You pull out the box and hand it to Edward, you’re sure he can feel how sweaty your hands or hear how fast your heart is beating but he doesn’t comment on it.

“I thought I said no presents.” He turns the box over in his hand then turns his curious eyes on you. “I know but you got me something and…you deserve a gift for your birthday.” Edward pops the box open and the ring glints in the dimming sunlight. You study his face for a reaction but its remains passive.

“I hope you can wear silver, i didn’t know if it would hurt you like in the movies.” You feel him laugh from behind you, he kisses your neck again, “I can wear silver but thank you for worrying about me.” You let out a sigh of relief. Edward carefully takes the ring out the box and inspects it, you wait with bated breath for him to notice the name engraved on the inside of the ring.

Edward’s just about to slip the ring on his finger when his breath hitches. He effortlessly moves you off his lap and onto sofa beside him. He studies the ring intensely, tracing his finger over the engraving. “Elizabeth”, he says it weakly but it’s loud enough for your human ears to pick up.

“Was it too much?” your voice is soft when you ask, you place a comforting hand on his hunched back. Edward shakes his head, “No..it’s- it’s just I didn’t expect you to remember her name.” You tsk, “Your mother is important to you so that makes her important to me. Of course id remember her name.” Edward turns to you, he has that look that you can’t read again. You wish you knew a spell that could help you read his mind.

“You don’t have to wear it.”, You try to offer Edward a lifeline. Maybe you were moving too fast? Maybe it was too painful a memory. Edward told you about his mom months ago, maybe it was something he overshared.

Then you’re hugging Edward before your brain can register what’s going on. His chest is pressed hard against yours and it causes a shiver to run down your spine. You’re not sure if it’s due to his body temperature or the proximity. His head is in your neck again, his toned arms grip your back tightly.

You stay like that for a moment until he pulls away. “Thank you…you don’t know how much this means to me.” He slips the ring on his finger then pulls you into a deep kiss. You feel like the room is spinning. Edward rests his forehead on yours. His words come out slow, “I need to..eat, I don’t want to do something i’d regret.”, He darts to his bed side table and picks up his keys, “But let me drive you home first.”

The feeling of a hand on your foot wakes you, in your haze you throw out your hands expecting to throw out a force to blow the assailant back but only produce smoke. “If I was a mosquito I would’ve been terrified.” Edward’s voice is quiet, seductive even. His hand traveling from your foot to rub circles on your leg. “You’re not funny.”, You say as you turn on your lamp light. When you turn back to him he’s lying back on your bed, muscular arms folded comfortably behind his head.

You’re too tired to put your wall up but couldn’t help but think about how good he looked. His eyes were back to their original topaz, the shirt he was wearing had ridden up to show his muscular stomach.

His hair was in its usual unruly state, a smirk on his full lips. Your heart was hammering in your chest, “Did you get to eat any mountain lions?” You’re not sure what to do..or what to say in this situation. Your mind was yelling one thing but your body? Your body was telling you something completely different.

And somehow you and Edward ended up making out on your bed. Only the sound of bugs chirping outside your window to accompany you two. Your body moved on its own. You kiss Edward’s neck and bring your hands under his shirt to grip his cold back, effortlessly pulling your bodies together.

“Y/N, we should stop.”, Edward’s breathing hard, the roaming hands on your waist have stilled. You stop your ministrations. Edward had confided in you that he was a virgin one late night after a heavy make out session. You weren’t sure you believed him. Hot, 103 and still a virgin? No way.

“It’s the truth.”, He begins to pull away, you stop him with a balled up hand in his shirt. You know your strength is no match for his, you know you could never really stop him if you wanted to. "Im sorry.”, the hand in his shirt goes to his hair. “It’s your birthday, I want to give you another…present.” You’re sure Edward would be blushing if he could.

In less than a second he’d pushed you half way across your massive bed. He has almost…feral look in his eyes. You’re not sure if you should be excited or scared. “Are you okay?” You ask tentatively, the way you would a scared animal.

“No..Y/N. I could get..carried away and hurt you, kill you. We can’t-“, scurry across the bed to him. You massage his scalp, hoping to relieve the pained expression on his face. “You won’t hurt me. I’m not a flower, Edward.”, His grip is steely as he pulls your hand from his head.

“I care about you..and I couldn’t…take your virtue before marriage. I could crush you if I lost control. I could drain you-“ You cut Edward off by covering his lips with your yours. You expect him to push you away, surprisingly he doesn’t. You pull away your eyes on Edward, hands disappearing up his shirt.

“Edward it’s 2004 not 1880, i’m sure god has more pressing things to worry about than premarital sex”. “Besides,” The hands under his shirt pull it up, up, up until it’s over his head. “You just fed. Aaand it’s your birthday and I want to do this with you because I trust you.” Your shirt comes off next. “I want this. I want you. I can take control where you can’t hurt me.”

You see him start to argue back so you kiss him again. And he kisses you back. “Of all the things i’ve done…god will forgive me for this.”, Edward says in between deep kisses, “I can’t resist you.”, his hand caress up your thigh dangerously high.

So, he doesn’t. And you don’t resist him.

Once you two are spent Edward can’t stop staring at you and touching whatever piece of you he can get his hands on. He kisses the top of your head as you lay entangled in his arms. “You’re so beautiful…if i could dream they would be filled with nothing but you.” His voice is filled with whimsy.

You blush and climb on top of him again.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The forest surrounding your grandmother’s house is vibrant as you and Edward relax on an itchy patchwork blanket. His fingers are idly playing with your hair as you lay your head on his chest, you had asked Edward why he was forcing himself to go to high school and he gave you his reasons. They made sense, being able to stay in places long did have its advantages but you felt like it had to be torture and you voiced that to him.

“Oh, it is torture. Especially when you have my abilities. Mike was thinking about you so much last week I almost poked his eyes out.” You let out a hearty laugh, sitting up on your elbow to look at him. “Then stop torturing yourself…you can come with me to college next year.” Edward turns to you, a cheesy grin lighting up his face. “I have multiple degrees, I don’t need college either.” You roll your eyes, “sooo…don’t go to classes. The world is our oyster, i’m just saying there’s so much more than forks high school.”

You look at Edward, trying to catch his eyes to get some semblance of how he’s feeling but he’s too busy staring at the gloomy sky. You lay back down on his chest and you two are quiet again for the moment.

“I can’t leave my family.”, you grip the soft material of his shirt, you’re not sure why you do. Maybe to ground yourself? get Edwards’s attention? Either way your words come out before you can think about them, “They can come with us! ooor I can go to a school closer to Forks.I…just don’t want to be without you.” You hide your blushing face in his shirt and Edward runs his fingers through your hair in a manner you guess is supposed to be soothing.

“Don’t change your aspirations for me, we’ll figure it out…because I can’t be without you either.” You smile to yourself and wished you could stay in this moment forever.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You wish you believed your dad when he told you that high school was a fleeting chapter because before you realized it you were a senior with four months of school left. You had been so wrapped up in applying for colleges, hanging out with Nina, studying spells, going to La push and being with Edward you felt like the time had slipped from your fingers.

The admissions letters were burning a hole in your backpack when you sat down at your usual lunch room table. You couldn’t wait to tell Edward that you got into both top picks, one in Seattle and the other in California. Now if it was up to Edward to let you know if he wanted to stay in Forks or if he’d be following you. Either way you wanted to be near him.

Nina had been close to throwing up when you told her you were waiting to accept after you talked to Edward. She instantly went into a rant about how you shouldn’t base your decision on a boy. And you knew everything she was true, you just felt like you couldn’t be without him. You felt like you…loved him.

“Did you hear we’re getting a new girl?” Amanda says when you finally get yourself settled at the table. “Yeah, Chief Swan’s daughter. I think her name is Becky?”, Nina says before stuffing a hand full of chips in her mouth. “I would hate having to move schools this late in the year.” Michelle, a scrawny girl with brown hair comments, the table murmurs their agreements. “I wonder when she’ll be here it’s already the 17th.” Michelle continues.

You realize that you don’t have to wait too long because Isabella Swan is at school the next day. You only see her in passing in the hall ways. She’s a pale, plain girl with long, brown hair. You swear she trips over her feet five times before she’s halfway down the hall.

The next time you see her is at lunch, she’s staring at you with a look you can’t place. No- she’s not staring at you but the boy whose hand you’re holding. You laugh to yourself, you probably stared at Edward the same way the first time you saw him. You kiss him softly, then release his hand so you can go to your respective lunch table.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

“What do you mean Edward’s in Alaska?!”You’re sure your eyebrows look like they’re ready to fly off your face in surprise. You had received a cryptic text from Edward right before the dismissal bell rang saying he cared for you and would see you soon. In your confusion the only thing you thought to do was go directly to the Cullen’s house where you ran into Rosalie. “He had to visit our cousins there, I’m sure he’ll talk to you about it when he gets back-“, Rosalie puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “He’s going to be okay, Y/N.”

Edward returns a week later, Rosalie was right about him being okay. Edward is more relaxed than you’ve ever seen, it’s like he has a new pep in his step. When you confront him about his disappearance he kisses you hard on the mouth telling you not to worry, he had some “things” to take care of. You want to push him for more information but don’t, you’re just happy to see him after his absence.

Later that day, you’re standing in the schools parking lot talking with the Cullen’s after school. You’re throwing your head back in laughter after Jasper says something surprisingly funny when you hear the sound of screeching tires. Edward is beside you one moment and gone the next. Your eyes search frantically around the parking lot for him.

Jasper and Rosalie make noises of anger beside you then begin speaking in hushed, aggravated whispers. Then your eyes lock on Edward and you see what’s got the Hale twins so mad. He’s stopped a van from crushing Bella Swan with his barehands. Your eyes are wide in shock and you can’t seem to form words, did Edward just blow him and his families cover? Your eyes dart around but you can’t figure out if anyone saw the extreme feat.

Edward takes off the from the scene, the Cullen kids scramble to get in their cars and you turn on your heels to begin walking home.

“Where are you going?!”Rosalie says in an exasperated tone. You point over your shoulder awkwardly as she stares at you with fiery eyes, “I was gonna walk-“, Rosalie cuts you off as she pulls open the drivers door so hard you think it may fly off its hinges. “No, i’ll drop you off. Edward would kill someone if he found out you walked home and people are being killed.” Her tone leaves no room for argument so you pull the passenger door open and sit in the seat.

Rosalie’s anger is rolling off her in waves as she drives to your house. You’re surprised her head hadn’t started smoking. “I’m sure no one saw him.” You offer weakly, trying to alleviate the girls stress. Her head snaps to you then back to the slippery road, she looked like she wished she let you walk. “That’s not the point. Edward is getting reckless. No offense, but he already fucked up telling you-,” You raise your eyebrow slightly, a little offense taken but you let Rosalie continue her rant. “And now this..we’re lucky if we don’t have to leave tonight.”

Rosalie pulls in front of your house, her car almost on two wheels from the speed. You thank her as you get out the car and she’s pulling off the second your feet touch the wet grass.

You curse and think about pulling your hair out as you do your math homework. You look at the clock, it was going on 11:30 pm and you still have five more questions. You’re ready to toss your book at the wall when your phone rings, you ignore it trying to focus on the daunting task in front of you when it rings again.

You let out a frustrated groan as you pick the phone up, it’s your mom calling from the hospital. “Mom, i’m trying to do-“, she cuts you off, “Y/N, I heard about what happened at the school. Your boyfriend’s such a hero for pulling Chief Swan’s daughter away like that. She’s lucky he was there.” You give her a mhmm, trying to hurry her off the phone but she continues. “He even came up here to check on her! He is such a gentleman. You got lucky with that one.”

Once you’re done with your homework and tucked in your bed, your mind starts to go over what your mom said. He came to the hospital to check on her? You try not to jump to conclusions because the poor girl did almost get crushed by a van…but when has Edward been this empathetic? You fall asleep trying to push the thoughts out of your mind.

Your woken out of your sleep sometime later. There’s a cold body pressed against your back and an arm slung around your waist, you involuntarily shiver. “Edward?”, You say groggily.

“Go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you.” , You turn to look at him not bothering to throw your wall up. “Why did you visit Bella at the hospital?”, You try to make out his face in the dark but it’s too hard for your human eyes. “I had to make sure she didn’t suspect anything.” His chilling hand rubs your neck tenderly and you’re thinking about grabbing another blanket when Edward is putting it over you and him.

Get out of my head, you think causing Edward to laugh.

You fall asleep in his arms shortly after.

When you wake up you’re alone.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

A while later you’re sitting in your usual spot at lunch. Nina is obliterating the food she brought and you can’t focus on yours because you’re too busy watching Edward and Bella talk near the salad table. You hadn’t meant to stare…but once his nimble body got up from his usual lunch table not to join you but to catch her falling apple you couldn’t help but peek.

“You better let that go before it gets everywhere.” You look at Nina then at the juice you’re squeezing in your hand. “I didn’t realize…”, You trail off, trying to watch the rest of the interaction. You look at Nina roll her brown eyes instead. “Just look at them, I’ve been watching this entire time.”, Nina says it low, like she doesn’t want the other girls to hear. “They look cozy.”, she says in the same low tone.

Nina looks back to you, her pretty face is stern. “We’ll talk later.”, You gulp. You feel like you a child who just got reprimanded by their parents. You throw a wall up when you feel a pair of eyes on you. You don’t have to look to know it’s Edward, you would know those tawny eyes anywhere. You make yourself eat some food, you didn’t want to pass out in the middle of the cafeteria because the wall was draining your powers.

You made a list during your last class of the day just to get your racing thoughts together. You wrote hurriedly on a crumpled sheet of notebook paper from your bag, it only contained two things to do. First: ask Edward about his conversation with Bella, the second: talk to Nina.

You couldn’t decide if you should ask Edward about his conversation with Bella or confront him. Like Nina said they did look pretty comfortable. You chew the end of your pen in frustration. You remember him telling you that he spoke to her at the hospital that late night in your bed. So what else would they need to discuss?

You have your umbrella open as you walk to where Edward usually parks his silver car. He’s waiting for you alone, his siblings long gone. You throw your wall up, munching some of the rice krispie you held in your free hand. Being that you were a senior your parents had become lenient with having an after school activity. You asked Edward to wait for you while you talked to your counselor about being accepted into your top schools.

Unfortunately, her suggestion was going to the school in California. She felt like you could really push your self there and also get away from the city you grew up in…you just had to accept the offer. You don’t greet Edward as you get in the passenger seat of his Volvo. He probably knows my wall is up.

You clear your throat looking outside at the trees before looking at Edward. Your mind is split, you want to talk about Bella and also wanted to know if Edward (and maybe his family) had made his mind up about following you to California or even to the school in Seattle.

So, you just dive in. “What were you and Bella talking about?”, You can’t help the smirk he swallows down. “No, hello or how are you?”, Your mouth forms a straight line. “You didn’t even acknowledge me today, so maybe I should be the one asking.”, Edward’s honey eyes are trained on you, you know he’s probably annoyed that he can’t read your mind. You feel the exact same way.

He lets out a sigh, taking your hand in his. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your palm. “Bella invited me to La Push, she said she’s going with her friends.” Your eyebrow quirks up, “…She only invited you?”, You say slowly. Edward squeezes your hand, “She invited you by extension because she knows you’re my girlfriend.”, You think Edward can see the green eyed monster on your back, when you snatch your hand from his and fold your arms.

“Okay. Let’s go, I have plenty of friends in La Push.” You had gotten to know Jacob and his tight band of friends during your junior year, much to Edward’s displeasure. His jaw ticks in anger, “You know I can’t go there.”, His hand reaches out and caresses your cheek. “Bella is only my friend.” You look at him, he was so beautiful it hurt. You couldn’t resist him. You couldn’t stay mad, especially when you had male friends of your own.

You finish the rice krispie that fell in your lap.

“Okay... l I trust you. But if there’s something you need to say then say it.” Edward kissed you then. It’s soft and sweet and you want to curl in his lap like a purring cat.

But what you don’t say out loud. What you hide behind your wall is that you’re not sure if you believe him.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

When the weather gets too nice for Edward to be at school you decide to disappear with him for the day. You make him help you pick Pacific Bleeding Heart’s for a paste your grandmother wanted you to make. You explain to him what the paste was for, and how you’d grind the flower as you two sit on the forest floor, the bubbling river beside you two echoing your words.

You watch his skin sparkle as you practice using your powers, he kisses you every time you’re able to successfully do a spell.

“Oh yeah, don’t forget about my recital tomorrow!”, You say holding Edward’s hand as you walk back to your grandmothers house. “My mom said she would try to come and you know my grandmas too sick. I’d like you to be there.”

Edward pulls his hand from yours and tosses your arm over his shoulder, he picks you up like he’s cradling a baby and sprints you two back to the slanting house.

He places you on the ground to face him, “You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world-” Edward kisses you deeply, both hands cupping your face gently, “But i’m hungry and I think I hear something good.”

And with that he’s gone.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

“Oh, that’s tonight?”, Your mom says through the speaker of your cell phone. You hold it to your ear with shaky hands, “Yes, mom. I’ve been telling you and dad for months.”, You try to mask the irritation in your voice.

You hear the sound of your mom’s name being called and the beeping of machines. “I’m-I’m so sorry baby. I promise your dad and I will make this up to you when he gets back from Wisconsin.”, She speaks to someone and they respond in an urgent voice, “Y/N? I have to go. Please don’t walk home you know those people were killed. Ask Nina or Edward to take you home. I love-” The phone hangs up before she can finish.

You cry out in frustration, maybe it was anger? Or sadness? Could be all three, you’re too devastated to tell. Nina would be at work but you didn’t fault her for it, she had to pay for college somehow. Everyone wasn’t lucky enough to have two doctors for parents. You call Edward twice but go straight to his voicemail. He was probably getting ready or having angsty Edward thoughts about his would be next victim.

After you finish throwing a temper tantrum you call the next person you can think of.

Amanda gives you 40 minutes to get ready. You had already showered so it gives you enough time to lightly do your make up and style your hair in an elegant updo. You put on the dangly, diamond earrings your parents bought you to accompany the necklace Edward gifted you.

You throw on the long, black dress the school provided for tonight. You think it’s pretty cute considering its from the school with its square neck and bell sleeves. You admire yourself in the mirror before pulling on your short, black heels. Then rush down stairs to the car idling in your empty drive way.

“Thank you so much.” You tell Amanda, giving a polite smile to the girl in the passenger seat holding Amanda’s flute. You reply to Nina’s good luck text telling her you love her then text Edward and tell him you can’t wait to see him.

Your solo is close to the end of the performance so you watch from the curtains for his golden hair and muted skin but..it never appears.

Your chest clinches when your music teacher tells you it’s your turn to go on. You have to force yourself to hold your head high with a pretty smile on your face. It hurts when you sit on the rough piano bench because you know none of the faces in the crowd came to see you. Your throat is getting tight as you scan the crowd one more futile time. You want to scream and cry, you want to run away and hide in embarrassment.

But you don’t.

Instead you bring your manicured fingers to the keyboard and you begin to play.

You decided to play your grandfathers song, at first you thought the melody was too sad but it matches your mood perfectly now. As you play you push all your pent up emotions into the keys, a few tears escape your eyes as your adrenaline rushes. The beautiful notes float through the air and fill the schools large auditorium.

Your fingers dance over the glistening keys as you play the haunting melody. You know you finish strong when the music excites even your ears but what you didn’t expect was the standing ovation from the crowd after you rise from your seat and curtsey. It only lasts for a minute but it puts a real smile on your face as you return behind the stage.

There’s no flowers waiting on you when the recitals over. You get a few polite hugs or pats on the back but no pictures, no “you did so well!”s, you try not to think about it too hard. To add to your growing frustration you couldn’t find Amanda anywhere and you had searched the entire school for her.

You tried calling Edward but his phone continued going to voicemail. Now you sat on the schools steps in defeat as you watched everyone get in their cars and leave, working yourself up for the walk home.

You were happy it didn’t rain but you still cried the whole walk home. You were lucky there were no murderers lurking in the trees because you would’ve been a pretty easy target.

When you finally make it home you kick off your shoes and toss Edward’s necklace in the trash. You couldn’t believe he had stood you up, Edward had never been the type to leave you stranded or not answer the phone. He was too much of a gentleman…you guess you were wrong.

You sat at the kitchen bar in disbelief for a moment, swirling your spoon in the soup you were making yourself eat. Rose rubbing against your dangling feet as she purrs.

When you wake up the next morning, through the grogginess of sleep you realize you’re not alone. Edward has his arms around you as he watches the sunrise over your head and through your bedroom window. You huff, “You’ve got some nerve.”, You throw his arms off you and slip from your soft bed, stopping when you notice the beautiful, blood red roses sitting in a glass vase on your dresser.

You’re contemplating throwing them out when Edward’s hand grabs your wrist lightly, you’re tired but you throw up your wall. You didn’t feel comfortable with Edward digging around in your head today. “Please don’t throw them aw-” You cut him off, “You think flowers will fix this?”, You say harshly, ripping your wrist from his grasp.

You turn to face him with fire in your eyes. His hair is in its usual disheveled state, his topaz eyes are solemn. “Y/N, I’m so sorry i missed your recital-", You throw your hands up in contempt, “You didn’t just ‘miss my recital’. I was there alone, I had to walk home in the dark while people are being ripped apart. You didn’t pick up the phone or answer my texts. Since when is that you Edward?”

You begin to walk into your bathroom, Edward hot on your trail. He watches you silently as you turn your shower on. “Is there something you need?”, You ask, voiced laced with anger.

Edward gets down on his knees, taking you by surprise as he hugs your waist. His face is dejected as he looks up at you, his scent is captivating as you weakly try to push him off but Edward’s grip is like a vice. Before you can protest he’s begging for your forgiveness.

Edward’s full lips move rapidly, “My cousins from Denali-the ones I visited in Alaska have come. They-They aren’t vegetarians like me and my family. I had to help..control them..we’re trying to show them the way.” His eyes search yours as he stands to his full height, choosing to engulf you in a hug.

His tantalizing scent clouds your mind but you still manage to shake your head as you look up at him, “No offense but that shouldn’t have stopped you from calling.” You try to break free from his arms but he’s too damn strong. Sometimes you forget that you’re really dating a vampire.

The sound of the running shower water is all you hear for a moment then Edward’s releasing you and hanging his head. You’re torn because you’re definitely still angry due to the night before but you loved Edward for trying to stop the loss of innocent lives. He sits on the toilet, watching you silently as you slip off your night clothes and into the running shower.

When you get out Edward’s still sitting there to your surprise. He watches you get ready quietly, following behind you like a scolded puppy. You’re sitting at your vanity doing your hair when he says, “I don’t blame you if you decide you want to leave me…I would too. I’m..terrible..” When you glance at him his head is in his hands as he sits on your bed.

You sigh, feeling a slight sadness for the…boy?, “I’m not leaving you Edward…You just pissed me off. I didn’t deserve that accident or not. I thought you’d be there for me.” You look up and his gold eyes are on you, then he’s over to you in a second and kissing you sweetly.

“And when do I get to meet these cousins?”, You ask with an eyebrow raised. Edward laughs, elated to be back in your somewhat good graces, “When they decide they can be around humans without disemboweling them.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

After making Edward promise that he’d never disappear again, he becomes….distant. Not in the sense of him not being around(not that he is) but he’s always in his head the sporadic times you two are together. You try to ask him what’s wrong but he always blames it on stress, sometimes saying nothing at all.

With Edward’s reoccurring absences you start going to La Push to hang out with the Quileute kids regularly.Since senior year you’d seen them less. It felt good kicking your feet back with Nina and Leah and laughing at the boys jokes. You listen to Jacob’s troubles with a unnamed girl and try to give him the best advice possible given his peculiar situation.

“Baseball tomorrow?”, You ask Edward when you notice that the next day will be particularly bad weather. Edward leans on his car, getting ready to depart from your house. He’s looking past you for a moment, he’s so wrapped up in his thoughts he doesn’t hear you and you have to ask him again. “Uh, no..it wouldn’t be safe with my cousins and all.”, He fixes your slipping robe , tawny eyes trained on you now. “And stay inside, I don’t want you getting mauled or anything.”

You agree, leaning into to him, “Okay but…ever since your cousins came I feel like i barely get to see you anymore. I miss you.” Edward strokes your cheek, “Things will be different soon.”

You don’t actually take Edward’s advice. You slip on some black leggings and one of Edward’s jackets before meeting Nina outside. You two had decided to drive to Port Angeles to find prom dresses, Nina had asked Embry over a romantic dinner a month or so ago and you just assumed you’d be going with Edward. “I hope all the good stuff isn’t gone.” Nina says nervously when you two finally arrive.

After a few hours of searching and deliberation Nina finds a simple but beautiful, plum gown, it’s sequined around its sweetheart neck line and brings out her brown eyes and skin. You go with a strapless, mid length dress, It’s sage green with a barely noticeable floral pattern printed on it. You almost didn’t get it until Nina tells you how good your boobs look in it.

You pay for both the dresses and both pair of heels out of the “i’m sorry for missing your recital” money from your parents. Nina is promising she’ll pay you back on the drive home but you wave a manicured hand to brush her off. “Nina, you never have to pay me-”, Your words are cut off by the screech of the cars tires and the sound of the hood of Nina’s truck being crushed.

“What the fuck?!”, Your neck lurches forward due to the impact and it causes your head to become dizzy. Through your haziness you’re able to see three figures. All pale and beautiful. You instantly recognize them as vampires. The man with the ponytail has stopped Nina’s truck with one hand, there’s a crazed look in his…red eyes. Red, that means they drink from humans. Your heart races as you realize how bad of a situation you and Nina are in.

You watch the three vampires and they seem to be arguing. A woman- a red head with crazy hair and a slender man with shiny,black hair seem to be disagreeing with the one who stopped the car. You take this as an opportunity to click off your seat belt and grab your phone from your purse in the back seat to call Edward.

You feel Nina’s wide, brown eyes watching you before you hear two doors open and you two are both pulled out the car and thrown onto the asphalt.

You let out a cry when your head hits the ground hard. Before you can protest your being picked up by your throat and held in the air, “James.”, the one with the glossy, black hair says, almost like he’s talking to a petulant child. James turns his head, to look at them and you look from your peripheral. Nina is struggling as best as she can as the red head holds her by her hair, you watch as she licks her lips like a lion ready to pounce.

“Shut up, Laurent! You’re not stopping me from tearing this one apart.” James licks his lips this time, “I need a snack” You smack the hand around your neck and he squeezes it before letting you go. You fall to the ground with a thud, scrambling to get as far away as possible while taking shaky breaths. A boot comes down hard on your back to stop you and you let out a scream.

“You smell him on her don’t you? This isn’t smart.” The boot on your back twists and you let out another pained cry. You feel lucky that you haven’t heard any bones break yet. “Exactly. He stopped me from eating the last one. Why should I have to suffer because he likes his pets?” James hurls the word out like it’s a slur.

You hear Nina cry out and then a soft, feminine voice begins speaking, you imagine it to be the pale, red head woman. “James, my love. Leave her and let’s focus on the other girl..this one doesn’t smell nearly as good anyway.” It’s quiet for a moment. You’re not sure if you’re breathing, you’re waiting to feel fangs rip your throat out or an icy hand to grab you when you hear the crunch of gravel and Nina screaming your name.

She helps you stand, her face is terrified when she says, “What the fuck just happened?”. You look at her and you’re sure your face is conveying the same emotion, “I’m not sure but we need to get to Edward’s house.”

Nina agrees as she makes her way to the trucks destroyed hood, “If this piece of junk can make it.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You don’t wait for the truck to stop moving when you two arrive at the Cullen’s. You jump out as quickly as you can with the throbbing pain in your back and neck and don’t stop moving until you get to the large front door. You knock and the action causes the unlocked door to open slightly, before you can stop yourself your pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold.

You’re half way into the house when you’re briefly grabbed and shoved into the wall before being let go. “I thought you were someone else.” Is the only explanation Rosalie gives. You take in the girls disheveled appearance and forget about the events that just transpired for a moment. “Is everything okay? did something happen with your cousins?”, Rosalie looks at you like you grew three heads.

“My cousins?”, she says quizzically. “Yeah..the cousins you were helping get off the human stuff…from Alaska?”, Rosalie looks at you again before understanding blooms in her eyes. You’re still confused when she lets out a sound of annoyance, she shakes her head as a look of disappointment comes to her face.

Rosalie’s eyes soften when she looks at you, “I’m sorry,Y/N. But I think Edward’s been lying to you.”, Now it’s your turn to look at her like she’s grown extra limbs. “What-What are you-“ She cuts you off, eyes darting off somewhere, you don’t even think to look as your head reels.

“Our cousins from Denali were never here, Y/N” Rosalie begins to sink down and you’re confused as to why until you’ve realized you moved into a sitting position. “Edward said you two broke up…I guess he’s been telling you a lie about our cousins to spend time with Bella.” You let out a weak laugh. To spend time with Bella, the words ring in your mind.

Your confusion turns to sadness, “So, what did he say was going on when I came around?”, Rosalie winces before she strikes the next blow. “He…said you wouldn’t leave him alone and he needed to make sure you weren’t going to tell anyone about us.” Your heart drops into your stomach. Not only was he lying to you, but he was telling his family that you were chasing after him like a love-obsessed stalker.

Rosalie rises then offers you a pale hand, you look her with teary eyes when taking it. “I’m sorry, Y/N….I kind of suspected but wasn’t sure.” You scoff, snatching your hand from hers once you’re on your feet. “You suspected but didn’t come to me?! We see each other almost everyday at school what kind of shit is that?!” Rosalie’s eyes turn hard at your outburst but you couldn’t care less.

She points a manicured finger at you, “I may like you and Edward may be wrong. But Edward is my brother and I would never go against him.” You don’t acknowledge her reply with words, only shaking your head and asking where Edward was. “He’s in the garage-“ Your legs start to move, the pain you experienced earlier far from your mind. Rosalie flits in front of you, “But I don’t think you should go down there.” You brush past her.

The garage is in chaos when you make it down the stairs. Bella, Carlisle and Edward’s intense conversation pauses as they watch you stalk wordlessly over to Edward. Carlisle calls your name just as you push the boy, he doesn’t budge but you don’t care as you push him again.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time!” You roar. You go to punch him but Edward stops you softly.

You want to cry but you refuse to let the tears fall in front of them. Edward looks sad as he holds your wrist, “You were with Bella the night you missed my recital?”, you ask Edward breathlessly.

He doesn’t answer, choosing to look everywhere but your face. So, you look towards the brunette. She nods her head in confirmation and it takes everything in you not to strangle them both.

“I’m sorry. Y/N but we don’t have time, Bella is in-”, You snatch your wrist from him, glaring at a dejected looking Carlisle and doe eyed Bella.

You cut him off sharply, lip curling in anger when you speak, “Then make time! I almost died today and now this?! You’re going to hear me.” Edward looks confused until you let him into your mind and show him the pain you endured just moments ago.

Edward releases your wrists, he takes a step back and goes to touch the bruises forming around your neck. You smack his hand, “Don’t touch me.”, You spit venomously.

Edward explains what happened with the trio of vampires and Bella, you laugh bitterly in his face. “Let me get this straight. You lied to me to take her-“ You point to Bella, “Now they want to kill you and eat her? Sayonara. I love when people get instant karma.” You turn on your heel to leave but Edward appears in front of you, grabbing your wrist.

“Didn’t I tell you not to touch me?”, He doesn’t let your wrist go. A tear escapes as your anger turns to sadness. “Why Edward? I thought we had something. You do know lying is a sin right? What happened to caring about your soul?”, Edward winches.

“Yes, Y/N. I know. I told you that you make my morals weak. Im not good…I said I was a monster. It’s in my nature to hurt people. I didn’t mean for this to happen…I care for you. I only lied to you because I wasn’t sure how to tell you that my feelings became platonic once I met Bella.” Edward goes on to explain that Bella is a singer and what the means.

This time when you pull your wrist away he lets go. “So all this time down the drain because she smells good?”, You’re furious again. “No..it’s so much more. I…love her, i’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” Your heart falls out of your stomach and onto the hard garage floor , you swear you can see it beating as Edward continues.

“I didn’t want this to happen this way. You were such a good friend to me. I know it was a long time for you but in my state it was only a few minutes. You’ll get over me and live a long and happy life with someone who truly loves you.”, You look at Edward, genuinely look at Edward as the monster he is. You want to punch him but you know it’ll hurt your bruised body more than it’ll ever harm his.

You think about arguing or bashing the windows out of his Volvo but you squeeze your hand into a tight fist instead because what you really want to do is drop to your knees and sob. “Well, good luck. Can you move now?”, You ask Edward, voice cracking. He shakes his head no, “I’m sorry but… I need your help. James is an excellent tracker and without your disguising spell she’ll die.”

You scoff, crossing your arms, “Fuck you, Edward. Now move.” You try to go around him but he’s in front of you again, this time on his knees. It reminds you of when he begged you for forgiveness not too long ago.

“Please, Y/N” He takes both your hands in his and you don’t look at him as a few tears escape your eyes. You couldn’t believe this was genuinely happening. Just a few months ago you were hoping to move out of Forks with Edward now he was on his knees begging you to save his beloved.

“I said no. Now get away from me.” Edward doesn’t budge, “Y/N, please. I’ll do anything. You’re a good person, please don’t let her die. Help Bella so I can kill the vampires that did this to you.” The rest of his plea falls on deaf ears.

Edward babbles on and on before you finally tell him to shut up. He does instantly. You rip your hands from his, “I’ll help her even though she knew we were in a relationship-“ Bella doesn’t meet your eyes when you look at her, “Because you’re right. I’m not a monster like you and I don’t want her death on my hands. Let it be on yours.”

You roughly snatch a lock of hair from Bella’s head and begin saying the words. When you’re finished you don’t turn towards Edward and speak openly, “It won’t disguise her completely but it’ll give her a better chance.” as you walk out the garage you don’t look back and Edward doesn’t stop you.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The liquor burns your throat and the music is too loud as you wobble through you and Nina’s going away party. When you told Leah that you accepted the offer and would be moving to California with Nina she insisted she throw you two a party.

You agreed even though you weren’t in a parrying spirit and drank your sorrows away as you watched everyone else have fun as they danced by the roaring fire.

It seemed like only one person was as sad as you so you sat by the sorrowful boy as he sipped from his red cup. “What’s got you down?” You asked Jacob, you’re surprised he can understand you with the way you were slurring.

His brown eyes don’t leave the fire, “You remember the girl I was telling you about?”, You nod and Jacob continues. “She’s wrapped up with these-“ Jacob stops himself, eyes flickering to you. It sounded like he was ready to say vampires but it could just be your drunk and sad mind playing tricks. “These freaks and now she’s hurt pretty bad. I’m just worried about her.” Your mind grinds to a halt as you try latch on to a memory through your inebriation.

You remember your mom coming home and telling you about a girl, Bella, getting admitted due to a really bad fall. You knew better, you were surprised she survived the run in with the vampire. But this can’t be the mystery girl.

“Oh, i’m so sorry.” You say, feigning sadness as you reach out and pat Jacob’s muscular back. “What’s her name? My mom could check on her.”, Jacob sighs, Her name is Bella but it’s okay, I think I can visit her tomorrow.” You want to projectile vomit in Jacob’s face but you hiccup instead.

You were soooo tired of hearing that bitches name. In your drunken state you begin laughing , you aren’t too sure why but it’s better than the first option.

“What’s funny?” Jacob asks, eyes laced with confusion. What the hell, you think and you tell him everything. And while Jacob is trying to process his thoughts you look at him, really look at him and you’re talking before you can stop yourself. “You know you’re too hot to let her string you along like this.” Jacob’s thick, dark eyebrows shoot up at your words causing you to laugh.

A smug smirk erases the surprise on his face, “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”, you smirk back at him, gripping his bicep for balance. You were close to him now so you were able to smell his earthy, sandalwood scent, “That you’re hot or that she’s leading you on?”, Jacob gives a hearty laugh before he quips back in his deep voice, “Both.”

For some reason your drunk brain takes this as permission to kiss Jacob. Your lips briefly touch his before he’s lightly pushing you away, even going the extra mile to take a step back.

“What are you doing, Y/N? You know how I feel about Bella.” You look at him dumbfounded, “Did you hear anything I said? Bella’s with Edward.”, Jacob’s brown eyes don’t meet yours, “I know.”, Jacob sips from his cup again, “but she loves me and i’ll be there for her when he fucks up.”

You scratch your head in genuine confusion, “No, Jacob you deserve someone who appreciates you, who would’ve chosen you first-“ , Jacob looks up at you now, brown eyes resembling the fire that warmed your cheek.

“Like you?”, Jacob laughs, “I’ve talked to you a hundred times and you never thought of me like that. You’re only trying to kiss me now because Bella stole your boyfriend.” He looks down at you, “You’re just jealous.”, It would’ve felt better if he would’ve punched you.

You apologize for the whole…experience and take a sip of your drink before turning towards Nina’s house. You wondered if Jacob was right the whole walk there.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The pounding on your door woke you up sometime in the afternoon. You threw a pillow over your head to block out the noise but that only worked for a moment.

“I’m up!”, You shouted, throwing the covers off your body before getting out of the bed. You maneuver around the piles of clothes on the floor, you meant to pick them up but you had been in too much of a funk since the party.

You pull open the door to reveal your mom and dad. Your dad is holding a camera to his glasses but your moms smiling face drops when she sees your disastrous state.

When her eyes take in your room she looks concerned, “Y/N, why aren’t you getting ready..your rooms a mess…” You shrug, “I told you i’m not going to prom.” You sit on your bed and look at the window across the room. You try not to think about Edward’s shimmering skin as the sun bounces off it. “I don’t have a date either.”,

Your mother tsks, “you don’t need a date you have Nina.”, You lay back with your arm covering your eyes. “Nina’s bringing Embry. I’m not being a third wheel.” Your mother sits on your messy bed and pats your knee, “You’re so pretty someone will have to dance with you.”

“Now, get up and get dressed. Your father and I took off work for this.”

You feel embarrassed walking into the dance with no one your arm. Your sage dress shimmers under the lights as you walk to an open table and sit.

But your mother was right. You did have to wait a couple of songs but a cute boy from the football team asked you to dance. Nina gives you a thumbs up across the dance floor from over Embry’s shoulder.

Your partner turns you in a way where you have a clear view of a brunette in a blue dress and a boot across the dance floor. Edward and Bella don’t see you, too busy in their own world. You turn back to the boy in front of you and plaster a smile on your face.

Epilogue

You hum a tune as you jog up the stairs to you and Nina’s apartment. You thought about the homework you had to do as you pressed the 3rd button on the elevator.

Nina was cooking when you made it inside, the delicious smell sending your stomach growling. You’re ready to investigate what’s in the skillet when Nina yells out, “Hey, you got some mail!”

You turn your attention from the kitchen to the mail bowl beside you. A crisp, white envelope is addressed to you in sprawling, cursive letters.

You open it with Nina over dinner, both your mouths drop when you read what the letter says.

A invitation to Edward and Bella’s wedding.

[shadowtriovibes]

mind if i move in closer?

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating: PG

Summary: sickeningly sweet christmas fic, loosely a continuation of the potioneer's apprentice (not necessary to have read to read this!)

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.” Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?” “No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

December 25, 1891

Christmas morning at Hogwarts is a surprisingly quiet affair.

Having spent many of your formative Christmas mornings in a Muggle boarding school before arriving at Hogwarts, you’ve grown accustomed to waking up to the sounds of eager whispers and excited squeals as the handful of holiday holdovers awoke to find a small array of presents laid out for them. Gifts were usually provided by the kindly heads of house who’d remained at the school during the break – many of whom were just as lonely as the children they watched.

A few oranges and sweets here and there, some secondhand books, perhaps a wooden puzzle for them all to share… It was always lovely, even during leaner years.

Of course, Christmas at Hogwarts was spectacular – massive fir trees decorated with floating baubles and shining ribbons lined the corridors, beautiful music drifted down from the Bell Tower, and the annual feast on Christmas Eve teemed with seemingly endless platters of food.

Your first holiday season at Hogwarts hadn’t been lonely at all. With Ranrok still at large and dozens of poacher camps causing trouble throughout the Highlands, many students chose to spend their Christmas at Hogwarts rather than risking the lengthy train ride back to London or hiking out to their family homes in nearby hamlets.

This year, however, there were only two Slytherins who remained in the castle over the winter break: you and Sebastian.

While the two of you had each been quietly pleased to learn that the other would be staying, you’d both been surprised to learn that even Ominis would be departing to spend Christmas with his family, per their demand. Before he left, he’d darkly insisted that he’d bet a fistful of Galleons that he’d be back before New Year’s Day if his brothers had anything to say about it.

While Ominis sulked, Sebastian had been the one to explain to you that the older pure blood families, many of whom shared your house, are especially traditional during the holidays.

Or, as he’d so bluntly put it, “All the posh ones will be traveling somewhere warmer, and even the snooty half-bloods don’t want to leave their little sprogs here with all the orphans and the impoverished.”

“That’s lovely,” you grumbled.

He’d merely shrugged and smirked, “At least we’ll have the run of the place.”

Christmas Eve dinner, at least, had been fairly lively thanks to a handful of younger Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors who delighted in joining hands and pulling open wizard crackers. Sebastian had insisted you keep the wizard’s chess set he’d received, as yours had contained a live turtle dove that had promptly flown off to roost in the rafters.

(Professor Black, who had also stayed over the holidays, declined Professor Weasley’s invitation to join the holdovers in the Great Hall, which Sebastian insists was the best gift he could have possibly received.)

The pair of you spent the rest of the evening in the common room, taking turns sipping from a bottle of spiced apple brandy Sebastian had managed to charm out of Sirona’s hands during your last trip to Hogsmeade. By the time you’d wobbled up the stairs to the seventh-year dormitories, you’d been unable to stop giggling while Sebastian walked you to your door.

“Get some rest,” he’d laughed, his cheeks flushed red from the alcohol. “Father Christmas can’t bring you presents if you’re still awake, can he?”

“Father Christmas, hm?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “It’s just the two of us, Sebastian. I think he’ll pass over the Slytherin common room this year.”

Something secret sparkled in his eyes, but he said nothing as you opened the door to your room.

Just as you’d turned around to say goodnight, Sebastian leaned in close and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbled. “See you in the morning.”

Before you could even exhale, he’d quickly made his way up the opposite steps to his room and firmly shut his door behind him. You felt warm all over as you’d changed into your nightwear and climbed into bed – not just from the brandy, you’re sure.

But when you wake up… There’s nothing but silence.

The fire across the room is muted with its usual silencing charms, the popping and cracking of the firewood kept quiet while you slept. There are no roommates eager to open gifts, no smells of Christmas treats like roasted ham or cinnamon pastries cooking in the dormitory kitchens down the hall, which you’d cherished in your old schools.

…But at the foot of your bed, you find a small pile of presents.

You smile to yourself as you sit up and rub your eyes, half expecting the delicate boxes wrapped in bright paper and gently curling ribbons to dissolve away as your vision comes into focus. When they remain, you dare to gingerly pull one into your lap, tracing your fingertips over the crisp paper wrappings.

The first parcel is from Augustus Hill, who’d sent over a fine woolen scarf charmed to remain warm and dry even if it collects falling snowflakes that melt against its magical heat. It’s a deep forest green and is wonderfully soft, and you can’t resist wrapping it across your shoulders as you reach for a second gift.

From your potions master Parry Pippin, you receive a fine set of measuring spoons made of polished copper – much more attractive and precise than the brushed pewter spoons you’d ordered from a supply shop in Diagon Alley.

Professor Weasley had even gifted you a box of stationery supplies that contained a set of quills, a few rolls of parchment, and even a pot of ink. A practical gift to be sure, but thoughtful (and quite generous, you think).

Your favorite gift is from Ominis, who’d sent a box of French candies with magical molten centers from a wizarding confectionary shop in Paris, where his family always visits for the holidays. Inside he’d tucked a note insisting that Sebastian had been sent his own box as well and you were not to let him coax you into sharing yours. You’d fondly rolled your eyes before pinning it to your ever-growing collection of correspondences affixed to the wall beside your bed.

Of course, you can’t resist treating yourself to a piece of candy or two while you change into a simple dressing robe and freshen yourself in the wash basin beside the fireplace. One tastes like cherries and brings a delightful pink flush to your cheeks and lips, and the other tastes like nougat and makes you whistle like a songbird while you pull back your hair into a loose braid.

By the time you wander downstairs, Sebastian is already poking at the common room fireplace, cursing under his breath.

“Happy Christmas, Seb,” you call out, tucking your dressing robe tighter around your waist.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbles distractedly. “It’s bloody freezing in here.”

You smile to yourself as you take a seat on the cozy settee across from the fireplace. Sebastian has managed to rustle up some extra firewood, undoubtedly from one of the empty boys’ dormitories, to ward off the chill of the common room.

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.”

Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?”

“No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

To your delight, Sebastian’s frown deepens. “What? Who?”

“Oh, you’ve met him,” you answer, feigning indifference. “He’s rather posh, very stylish, always dressed impeccably… You and I saved him from a troll once, if you recall.”

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when he finally catches wind of your little ruse. “Ah, I see. Just playing one of your little games with me.”

“You make it far too easy,” you tease him, unraveling your scarf and gently draping it across his broad shoulders. “There, that ought to warm you up.”

(Immediately your mind starts to wander off as it conjures up images of how else you might warm up your unfairly handsome friend, but you’re quick to chastise it into silence.)

“You’re too kind, love,” he says, that ever-present smirk still on his lips.

Both of you are silent for several long moments while you hang on to the ends of the scarf, staring up into his warm brown eyes. His gaze dips down to your mouth when you bite your lip, and just as you’re about to ask him if he’d like to walk you to the Great Hall for breakfast, he blurts out, “I have a gift for you.”

“You – a gift?” you ask dumbly. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says softly. “Er, I should warn you that it’s nothing big, but… I wanted you to have it, so…”

He trails off quietly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.

“I have a gift for you too,” you admit. “I left it upstairs. Can I go get it for you?”

“S-sure,” he stutters. “You bought me a gift?”

“Don’t be daft, Sallow,” you tease him. “I made you a gift.”

With that you turn on your heel and march back up the stairs to your dormitory, snagging the delicate potion bottle shaped like a cloud with an indigo ribbon wrapped around its neck. You gingerly turn it over in your hands, watching as the light purple draught inside swirls around languidly.

Downstairs, Sebastian waits for you with a small box tucked behind his back. He looks slightly nervous, you think, so you decide to offer him your gift first.

“Alright,” you say as you take a seat. “First, let me just say that I had Mister Pippin check this to make sure I did everything right, and he said it’s perfectly fine.”

(In fact, Pippin had said you’d done a brilliant job, but you don’t want to oversell yourself before Sebastian has had a chance to try your brew.)

Sebastian eyes the glass bottle as you offer it to him, gently turning it over in his hands.

“You made this?” he asks softly, and then he grins and asks, “Did Weasley help you at all? Because I already learned my lesson with his ‘Fizzing Whizzbeer,’ thank you very much.”

“No,” you insist, biting back a laugh as you remember Sebastian chugging a bottle of Garreth’s experimental brew and being stuck levitating a few feet above the ground for an entire afternoon. “No, I made this just for you.”

“What’s it do?” he asks curiously.

“Well, it’s… it’s a sleeping draught, sort of,” you say softly. “It’s got lavender for comfort, and valerian springs for restful sleep, but I added cinnamon and a bit of shrivelfig to create peaceful dreams.”

Sebastian slowly tips the bottle back and forth, watching the thin liquid dance around the bottle. “Peaceful, hm?”

You’ve known about his nightmares for a while now. He doesn’t like to talk about them often, but he’s admitted that since that day in the Catacombs, he’s hardly slept a full night without being plagued by visions of those damned Inferi, of his uncle’s limp body, of Anne’s face…

The bleary eyes and wan expression he sometimes wears to breakfast after a particularly hard night tell you everything you needed to know, and you’ve spent the last several weeks visiting Hogsmeade after class to work with Mister Pippin to create your own special draught. Not dreamless sleep, but better sleep.

“I just thought… that you deserve to have some good dreams,” you mumble.

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth quirks up. “I do have good dreams, sometimes.”

(You miss the way he glances over at you, raking his gaze down the length of your body. You miss how it lingers where your dressing robe has fallen open a bit, showing off the delicate neckline of the thin chemise you’re wearing underneath.)

“O-oh,” you stammer. “W-well, I suppose now you can… have more.”

You frown disappointedly until Sebastian rests his warm hand on your knee, gently holding the bottle against his chest with his other.

“Thank you,” he says. “Really, I can’t believe you made this just for me. Merlin, it’s… it’s a perfect gift.”

His gaze is heated, and intense, and something about it makes you want to squirm, so instead you breathily ask, “May I have my gift?”

Sebastian holds your gaze as he slowly nods, only letting it break it when he turns to grab the box he’d hidden behind himself. With trembling hands you lift the lid to find a small silver badge inside, reverently tucked inside a nest of tissue paper.

Your hands go still.

“Sebastian, is – is this…?” you whisper.

“My family’s crest,” he murmurs. “You’ve seen it once before, in our fifth year.”

Gently, you lift the crest out of the box and cradle it in your hands. The heat from your skin quickly starts to warm the cool metal, and you trace your fingertips over the “S” hammered into the center of the badge.

“What – how–” you stutter.

“Earlier this year, Anne sent it back to me,” he explains softly, watching with dark eyes as you pour over the symbols that adorn the crest: a cauldron, a flowering tree, a pair of crossed daggers, and a crescent moon.

“Why?” you whisper.

“I’m still not sure,” Sebastian says hollowly. “She just sent the crest, with no letter. But if I had to guess, I think… I think she wanted me to know that she’s safe, but not where she is. Not yet.”

You clutch the crest against your breast. “Oh, Sebastian…”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice going rough. “It’s – that’s what it’s for, the crest. I gave it to her to keep her safe, and she gave it back to… to tell me that she’s alright. If that’s all she wants me to know, then… then it’s enough.”

You shift closer to him on the couch, the flickering fire casting dancing shadows along the side of his face.

“Why are you giving it to me?” you ask him curiously. “It’s beautiful, Sebastian, but – isn’t it important to you? To your family?”

He swallows nervously. “I don’t… have a family anymore. Not really. Anne is out there somewhere, safe without me, but… you and Ominis, you’re my only family now.”

You let the crest fall to your lap before you throw your arms around Sebastian, burying your face against that warm scarf of yours he’s still wearing. You don’t have the words to say how much this gift means to you, but you think he understands when he wraps his arms around you, skimming one of his large palms up and down the length of your back.

“It kept Anne safe, and – and now it will keep you safe,” he murmurs. “I don’t… I’m not sure you understand how much you mean to me. I need you to be safe.”

“S’bst’n,” you mumble into his shoulder. “Y’re m’vry’th’n.”

He laughs softly and asks, “Sorry, what was that?”

You pull back just enough to press your lips against the shell of his ear, knowing that if you meet his eyes you’ll never have the courage to tell him how you’ve truly felt about him since your fifth year.

“I said, ‘Sebastian, you’re my everything.’”

Then the hand he’d cupped around the back of your head slides down, down, until he nudges his thumb along your jaw to coax you out of your little hiding place. His eyes are so dark, and the soft whine he lets out before he crushes his lips to yours is all the warning you get, but then… then he’s kissing you.

“Seb,” you gasp into his mouth, and then he lightly tugs on the tie around your waist until you shift yourself halfway onto his lap. It feels like hours go by just like that, just the two of you alternating between lazy, curious kisses and frantic, needy surges every time one of you lets slip another heated confession.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”“You taste incredible.”“I don’t ever want to stop doing this.”

Eventually, you let your head rest on Sebastian’s shoulder while he trails soft kisses from the hinge of your jaw down to your shoulder and back. He’s ravenous, he��d told you himself, but it’s not until his stomach growls loudly between your bodies that you even remember that other type of hunger.

“We’ll miss breakfast if we don’t leave soon,” you whine.

“Let’s stay here,” he murmurs against your neck. “We can eat those chocolates you got from Ominis for breakfast.”

“That’s… tempting,” you sigh distractedly, and then you pause.

Leaning back, you quirk a brow and ask, “Sorry, the chocolates I got from Ominis?”

“Well, sure,” Sebastian says smoothly. “He sent me a book on cursebreaking, but I can taste fancy chocolate on your lips, so I assumed…”

“You filthy liar, Sebastian Sallow,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “He warned me you’d try to talk me out of my sweets!”

“To be fair, that’s hardly the only thing I’ll try to talk you out of,” he drawls, sliding his hands down to your hips. “Namely this robe of yours…”

“Scoundrel,” you croon, leaning down for another hungry kiss.

(Ominis’ chocolates make a decent breakfast, even if half of them melt by the fire, ignored entirely while Sebastian makes good on his suggestion regarding your robe.)